


Rider of the Mark

by zeesmuse



Series: The Rohirric Cycle [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 48
Words: 170,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeesmuse/pseuds/zeesmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a Horse Lord to do when his King and best friend decide he needs more than a horse to keep him company? And no, running to Mordor isn't an option. NOW COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - At Helm's Deep

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why this thing insists on centering the prologue Quite frankly, I'm tired of fighting with it. So it's centered. I don't have the time or patience to delete delete delete...

__

Rider of the Mark

  


Prologue

  


At Helm’s Deep

 

The fortress at Helm’s Deep had almost been lost.

Despite the Elves, led by that arrogant March Warden in his Shoot Me Please Red Cloak, despite the Ranger, despite it all...

It had almost fallen.

Blown apart by magics unknown; the look on Theodan King’s face, aghast; shocked. Gamling knew what was going through his Lord’s mind.

_No!_  


  
_My people..._   


Slowly, they had been beaten back, almost into submission. No way for the women and children to escape.

_Trapped._  


In a last ditch attempt, the Ranger had persuaded Theodan King to ride out one last time. To ride to Glory.

_To Death._  


Even Gamling had to admit, the timing was exquisite. As they had ridden down the embankment, riding over Uruk hai after Uruk hai, the sun had risen in the east, bringing the Grey Pilgrim, the Riders of the Riddermark.

Éomer.

The glare of the sun was blinding, glinting off the burnished steel of armor and swords. And almost too quickly, it was over.

The flag of the White Hand flew no more.

The Rohirrim had gathered and buried their dead, their heroes. They had buried the Elves, had gone to great pains to mark their graves carefully. Theodan, Éomer, and Gamling had watched as Legolas, Gimli and the Ranger personally laid the Elf, Haldir, beneath one of the few trees in the valley.

They burned the Uruk hai. They burned their bodies, their clothing; spread the ashes to nourish the soil. They did not burn or dispose of their armor or weapons - no, those were to precious a commodity to destroy, and so they kept them. They would be scrubbed , refurbished, melted down if necessary and reworked. For the glory of Rohan.

Then they made their weary way home, back to Edoras. Home to rebuild, to grieve. 

Home to await the summons of Gondor.


	2. 01 Well, there were these Hobbits, See?

__

Rider of the Mark 01 

__

Well, there were these Hobbits, see? 

***

Gamling sat, drenched to the under linings of his leggings.

_***Damned, hairy-footed Halflings! Dancing on the table!***_

“Why scowl you?” The grizzled woman serving him sat another tankard of ale in front of him. The Captain of the Rohirrim grabbed it and sank his nose deep within the brim.

“Damned thing kicked my last one in my lap! I am soaked to the skin!” He took a deep pull.

Béma! Here they come again. He leaned back, bringing the tankard with him, as Merry and Pippin made another drunken pass on the table.

The old woman - Eldywythe - gave him a toothless grin. “Ye won’t want to be sleeping in that mess. Go to the bathhouse, m’lord.”

Gamling’s nose was still deep in the tankard. “And leave such auspicious company?” His eyes rose to meet hers. “Think of the fun I would miss!” He did not sound as if he thought he would be missing any.

“I hear women are aiding in the baths...” Eldywythe crooned.

Gamling never removed his nose from his tankard. “I take your daughter is there?”

The old woman straightened up, a scowl to match his on her face. Ah. He hit a nerve. So many women were widowed. Too many. Although many grieved, they protection sought. Those that thought themselves too old to marry, were pushing their daughters into the arms of the few available men. Confirmed bachelors were suddenly eyeing young maidens...

Gamling propped his foot on his bedroll. What was the point, men suddenly wanting a girl or woman to wive? Career soldiers did NOT marry, especially when there were so many willing wenches. He himself, was a Captain of the Riddermark; Theodan King’s right arm, Captain of the First Army.

Sweet young things, however...

Marriage. Bah! Not when there was a war to be fought.

_*This war is not over. Not by any means!*_

Still. Sweet young things...

Sweet things...

Young things...

Things...

In the baths.

With soap.

Hmmmm. 

Gamling buried his nose again in the tankard. The war was not over, there as no need to rush into something... permanent. 

Yet.

Soap. In the hands of a sweet, young thing...

Thing... 

He stood up, bringing the tankard with him.

There was a quiet spot in the corner, close to the fireplace. He had already had enough toasting of the dead, Bema take them swiftly on his wings to the houses of their fathers. A good night’s sleep would do him good. He leaned over to pick up his bedroll...

Only to remember his leggings were plastered to his working, moving parts in the most uncomfortable way.

He would wake up stiff and dry and...

A bath. At this hour.

He looked longingly at the spot in front of the huge fire. Perhaps, if he was quick, he would get himself cleaned, wash out his leggings and could be back before the spot was taken.

Right. And someday, Mearas would fly!

Sweet things in the baths. Sometimes, they had warm spots, close to where the pots boiled constantly. An additional body in his bedroll would only make things nicer.

_Cozier._

_Sweet young things._

_Things._

_‘Gamling.’_ That nasty little voice in his head went off. _‘She might be ugly.’_

Well, if she was ugly, he could always close his eyes. It was night; it was dark in the Golden Hall, and he didn’t have to look at her. He refilled his tankard, just in case, and as he threw on his cloak and shouldered his bedroll, he watched in disgusted glee as the two dancing Hobbits kicked yet another tankard of ale in Éomer’s lap.

***

Early spring had not yet arrived at the Riddermark. Cold winds blew from the mountains, whipping his green mantle about him with the snapping crispness of dried leaves. He was damned proud of that cloak; had gone through hell and back to earn it. He had sacrificed much, worked hard as a gangly boy, worked hard to improve, to understand the workings of defense and leadership. He had dug out his fair share of horse dung and cleaned many a trough. That Théoden King trusted him, he had no doubt and the craggy soldier would willingly lay down his life to protect his King.

The baths were in a largish wooden shed, attached to the back of the Golden Hall, near the kitchens, and as he made his way around, he could hear the giggling of the women inside; low murmurings of men. Sweet thing or no sweet thing, he wanted to get this mess off him and get out of his clothes. Again, the thought crossed his mind to hurry back to gain a spot in front of the fire; his clothes would dry overnight.

_Sweet, young things._

_Sweet._

_Things..._

Great Harpy of Helm’s Dike, would that incessant voice in his head never be quiet? He threw open the door of the baths and made his way in.

The baths, for lack of a better word, were really troughs; giant, wooden troughs.. Many lanterns and globes hung from the rafters and sat on rocks, giving the place subdued light. Some nervous soul had hung great bolts of cloth and leather from the rafters, separating one from another, giving the bather privacy

Gamling scoffed at the thought - privacy. So little of it in the ranks. He normally bathed in the river, with the other men; who never thought anything of shielding themselves. Shyness was for women-

_Sweet_

_Young_

_Things._

For some reason, a compliant, soft body in his bedroll was looking better and better. He made his way towards the furthest empty stall, clicking his fingers at the huge troll of a man in the back to begin filling up the tub. He set his bedroll and his pack high on a shelf; the last thing he wanted was for those to get wet. He was toeing the heels of his boots when the troll and another man began to carry steaming buckets into the stall. Eyeing the water as it began to fill the trough, he considered throwing his clothes in as well, but decided to let them wait until he was done bathing the grime and ale from his body and then toss them in. It wouldn’t be the first time he had placed his clothing to dry in front of the fire at night.

The heated water was rising higher and higher in the trough.

_Sweet, young things._

He scratched his beard. That could do with a bit of washing too. Some women weren’t picky, but he was. If the girl looked as if she needed washing, well, he would just pull her in with him.

“Are you going to get in or not? I’ve got better things to do than to wait for a man who is scared of the water!”

Gamling turned abruptly at the rich alto that invaded his thoughts. All musings of sweet, young things rose and disappeared through the hole in the roof, along with the steam rising from his trough.

She was not sweet. Nor was she young.

She wasn’t a witch, or old.

She was a ... something.

That’s it. She was a something.

The woman stood, fists on her hips. She was neither short or tall, young or old, beautiful or ugly. He might have considered her passing fair, had she not been scowling. Gamling would have continued to stare at her except she rushed to him and spun him around.

“I swear! Men! You can’t do a thing without help!” Her arms went around his waist. “It’s a wonder that you can even dress yourselves for battle!” Thud! His leather belt and scabbard were tossed to the side, discarded like last year’s beard trimmings. Her hands went to the hammered clasp at his throat.

“No!” Suddenly, the reticent Rohirrim came to life. “You’ll not-”

“Not what?” The green cloak slid from his shoulders, and he watched her deftly fold the rich fabric, hands meticulously respectful to the emblem emblazoned on it. Eyes as dark and as rich as the dirt in the farmlands gazed up at him. “Afraid I will drop it? I know well, the pride one such as you would take in this.” She moved away, carefully placing the mantle high on the shelf. She gave it a longing pat before turning back to him. “What? Do I have to undress you too?”

Despite his earlier musings, Gamling suddenly felt the blush of embarrassment spread over his cheeks. “No, I do not need your help.” Staring her in the eye, he pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the floor.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be washing your clothing as well?”

Fantasies of a sweet, young thing in his bedroll this night were fast dissipating. 

“Yes,” he spat tersely, “I will be washing my clothing.” His hands moved to the lacings of his leggings. “After I finish with me.”

He expected her to turn her back, go elsewhere to retrieve soaps and what not, but instead, she stood, arms crossed and hip cocked, and stared him in the eye as he peeled the sticky wool from his legs. He dropped the clammy, smelling leggings on top of his tunic, leaving himself standing in only his drawers and skin.

Her eyes never left his face. “You have a nicely turned ankle for a man.”

Gamling cocked an eyebrow at that. Maybe at least a sweet thing was back on for occupancy in his bedroll. She didn’t have to be young. Sometimes, a little seasoning was better than-

“You appear to have had a run - in with a tankard of ale, m’lord.” Her eyes raked down over him and she was grinning mischievously. 

_Looks like you are back on for a lonely night in the bedroll._

“Try two Halflings dancing on the table.” He went around to the trough, in a vain, unconscious attempt to cover himself while he pulled off the linen undergarment. He stepped quickly into the tub, strangely grateful when he saw her back was turned as he settled into the steaming water.

“I heard about them. Full of life, they are. Here.” The woman sat a largish bucket that was steaming down in the corner of the stall. She picked up his clothes and set them in it. “They get cleaner in water that hasn’t been bathed in.”

“Thank ye-.”

Gamling’s gracious acceptance of her thoughtfulness was drowned as a bucket of water was unceremoniously dumped over his head. His hands gripped the sides of the tub as he angrily shook the wet mass from his face.

“Béma’s... Balls, woman! The least you could do was give a man some warning!”

The HorseLord felt a solid thump across the back of his head. “My apologies, m’lord! You’re in a bath, you should expect a dunkin’!” Another whack. “Do not swear around me!”

Before he could respond, he felt her hands in his hair, a soft bar of soap in one. “Damn you. I know women that would kill for this mass of hair and you treat it like a curtain.”

Against his wishes, Gamling felt himself relaxing into the gentle kneading of her fingers. “It’s hair. What should I do with it? Wear it up in ribbons?”

Unbeknownst to him, the woman behind him smiled at his joke.

“Like a woman? I think not.” She had lathered it up and was contemplating the suds. “No soft-smelling softling are you.” Her voice dropped down several notches. “My husband used to let me wash his hair. It was one of the few luxuries we enjoyed together.”

Gamling stiffened slightly. “Used to?”

She removed her fingers from his hair and again, he was doused in warm water.

“Aye. I’m widowed. And no, I’m not looking for a husband.”

_Sweet thing back in the bedroll! Make that saucy thing..._

“Lean forward.”

Strong fingers worked the kinks in his back, his neck; knots he had forgotten about, that he had gotten used to... wasn’t a man supposed to have a pain right... there?

The hands now moved forward, over his shoulders, to his chest. Muscles and erogenous zones long unattended immediately came to life. Slowly, the warrior moved his head to the side, allowing her free rein to his neck and pectoral muscles.

It felt right nice.

“So,” he looked her from the corner of his eye, “do you want me to stand, so you can pay such close attention to the rest of me?”

For a moment, time stood still as she cocked her head and contemplated the unspoken offer from the highly ranked soldier.

Soap was flung, hard into the water, stinging suds splashing into Gamling’s face. His hands went to his eyes.

“No, m’lord. Allow me!” A bucket of cold water splashed over him, cooling any ardor he was feeling. He heard the bucket bounce as it was flung to the floor. “Wash your own bloody arse!” By the time he got the water from his eyes, all that was left of her was the breeze of cool air from the curtain swinging madly.

Lonely night in front of the fireplace. Fine. 

Except when he finally got bathed, his clothes cleaned, redressed himself and got his bedroll and gear rolled up, and got back to the Golden Hall, the nice warm spot in front of the fireplace was taken.

In fact, all the good spots had been taken.

Gamling shook his head in ire and headed to the next warmest place he knew.

Outside, down the hill, towards the lower end of Edoras.

To the stables.

“Move over, Dréogan!” He slung his gear into the corner and proceeded to drape his wet clothing on the stall door. His horse looked over his shoulder, munching on timothy hay, the look in his eye clear to his Rider.

_***What? You again?***_

Taking special care to hang the cloak of his rank high off the floor, Gamling flipped out his bedroll and moved into the far corner of the stall, on a mound of relatively clean straw, away from the tail end of his horse.

While the Marshall meticulously spread his roll, he felt a gentle prod at his hip. He never turned around; simply reached to the pouch tied to his waist and pulled out the apple.

“You’re spoiled, you know. You’re a brute, stubborn and you refuse to neck rein! Give me one reason to keep you?”

As if to answer, Dréogan blew timothy - sweetened breath, ruffling the still damp strands of hair that lay on Gamling’s shoulder. Nickering softly, he grabbed the apple from the HorseLord’s hand and ambled to the opposite side of the stall, giving his rider all the room he could give him.

“Spoiled rotten!”

The brazier in the middle of the stable belched, but at least it was warm and dry. Gamling settled in for yet another long night with his closest friend.

***  
tbc  
***


	3. 02 Whose bed have your boots been under?

****

Rider of the Mark 02 

****

### Whose bed have your boots been under? 

“Gamling. Attend me.”

The Horse Lord stretched his neck, trying to work out the crick that had wormed its way back into it. The thought flittered through his mind to find the saucy bath wench to work her magic fingers, but he dismissed the notion quickly. He did an about face in order to fall into place back slightly to the left of his King’s shoulder.

“Sire.”

Théoden King might have been ill and incapacitated during Grima Wormtongue’s stint as advisor to the king, but his lordship had regained his strength quickly. He moved as a man driven to correct the wrongs done in his name and the blue eyes missed very little. With a swiftness that belied his many years, the king wove through the labyrinth of people in the Golden Hall, through the halls and into his private chambers.

Despite the coolness of the air outside, the chamber itself was warm and inviting. Furs were piled on the large bed, heavy tapestries hung on the walls, blocking the winds that constantly blew and sometimes howled around the mountain that Edoras was built on. Heavy rugs and carpets covered the stone floor. A fire crackled in the large hearth, giving additional warmth to the room. Wormtongue had not allowed large fires to be lit, claiming they made the King fretful, over-heated and ill, when in fact the lack had kept him chill and vulnerable to ague and other sickness that plagued the elderly. One of the first things he had done, once the creature had been ejected from Edoras, was to have every fireplace and hearth lit to capacity. Théoden poured himself and Gamling a goblet of mead, offering one to the younger man, before striding over to the large window and pulling aside the heavy curtain.

“What am I to do with them?” He gestured to the small tent city that had sprung up just outside the city walls. “Refugees. Women and children. No homes to go and too few men to rebuild.”

Gamling came behind Théoden and looked over to the makeshift village. “They are not safe there. ”

The king took a long pull from the tankard and wiped his mouth on the back of his tunic sleeve. “No, they are not. We need to come up with a solution for the refugees situated outside the walls of Edoras. Do you have any suggestions as to what we might do to aid them?”

Gamling’s eyes roamed over the colorful bits of cloth that dotted the country side. “You wish my input?”

The king turned from the window, dropping the heavy length of fabric back into place. “Your advice has always been sound.” As he made his way to his table, he set the tankard down gently and spread out a rolled scroll - a map of Gondor and Rohan. “I will be much in need of sound advice in the weeks to come,” the king stated wearily. “There are few here I trust as I trust you.”

Gamling set his tankard down on the opposing side of the table. “Me, milord? Why? Gandalf the Grey-”

“Gandalf, the White, Gamling.” Théoden lifted a single finger to correct the Rider. “The White. This Gandalf is not the Stormcrow we have known nor that our fathers knew. This Gandalf is different; he has an agenda in which we are just players and stepping stones.” His eyes roamed back over the map, his hands smoothing out the curling edges. “He brings the Ranger; a man he believes is the lost King of Gondor.”

Gamling mulled over this information. “Sire, forgive me, but to the best of my recollection, Gondor has been over seen by-”

“The Stewards. Yes. For many generations. I remember sitting on my mother’s knee and eventually I sat at her feet, and listened to her regale my siblings and myself with tales about the brave and noble kings of the Numenor and Gondor. I remember her quietly admonishing me to remember my place, remember the promises made to Gondor and not to be like my grandfather, Fengel.” Théoden refilled his tankard, not to drink from it, but to contemplate the swirling liquid held within. “Long have the Stewards of Gondor have ruled in place of their absent king. Denethor will not easily accept this upstart Dunedain, if at all.”

“Perhaps, Gandalf is wrong?”

For a few moments, the only sound to be heard was the crackling and popping of wood in the fireplace. Finally, Théoden sighed and set his mug down. “No, he is not. That Ranger is the lost King of Gondor. Gamling; Théoden, King of Rohan, did not win the battle of Helm’s Deep-”

“Sire-”

“Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Ranger of the Dunedain and King of Gondor, won the battle of Helm’s Deep.” The elderly man stood, straightening slowly. “Do not deny it, Gamling. I was a figurehead, nothing more.”

Gamling’s mind flew. It was capable of such, even for all his friends and cohorts teasing him of his careful, methodical ways. That his King would think...

“Milord!” Gamling unsheathed his sword and kneeling before the standing king, offered the sword with bowed head . “My allegiance is to Théoden King, to Rohan, my duty, my fealty, my sword is yours, not to Gondor!”

He felt the king touch his head. “Of course it is, Gamling of the Westemnet. That is why you are here and not Gandalf or Aragorn. Rise, my friend.” He stepped back, allowing Gamling room to stand. “And sheath your weapon. Someone will come in and think you wish my head.” The Horse Lord’s eyes jerked to Théoden’s, relieved to see the humor in his visage. As the Horse Lord stood, Théoden’s eyes narrowed. “Gamling. Where did you sleep last night?”

Gamling was carefully putting his sword back in his scabbard. “Why, milord?”

“You have-” the King reached, dusting a lock of hair, “straw behind your ear.”

Nervously, the tall Rider combed his fingers through the locks, dislodging more straw bits. “The stables, milord.”

“You slept in the stables? Not the barracks? Or in the Great Hall?”

Gamling signed, looking slightly disgusted. “By the time I returned from the baths, there was no room in front of the fire. The barracks are empty and therefore cold. I chose the warmest place I knew.”

“Sleeping with your horse?” Théoden shook his head. “We must remedy that.” The king slowly strode around the table. “I am in need of someone to advise me, someone who is loyal to Rohan. I will not allow our people to be stepping-stone to another’s kingdom. I do not totally trust the Istari. It will be difficult for me if my left hand is sleeping in the stables.”

“Sire?”

Théoden sat and motioned for Gamling to sit as well. “Don’t look at me as if I’ve grown another head. You are my most trusted captain, a Captain of the Riddermark. You should not be sleeping with that brute you call a mount!”

Gamling was taken slightly aback. As problematic as Dréogan was, he was still a-

“Gamling. Dréogan is a fine horse. Not many would have your patience, however.” The Captain relaxed, realizing his king was not ridiculing his horse. “ I will check with Éowyn, see what rooms are available. By dinner, you are to move your gear and belongings into the Great Hall.”

Gamling choked on his mead. He? A lowly soldier? Residing in the Great Hall?

“Sire, the Hall is reserved for the royal family, for great nobles, and Rohan’s guests. It is not my place to reside here.”

Théoden’s hand began to press at the edges of the rolled map on the table. Meticulously, he laid books, heavy things on the edges.

“I do not trust our guests to aid me in making decisions that are in the best interests of Rohan. Things that concern me, do not concern them.” The edges laid, the king now lanced the younger man with the simple act of staring. “I trust you. I remember your advice is always sound and sure.”

Gamling’s boot scraped against the thick rug under his foot, as he fidgeted with the handle of his mug. “Sire. Please. Wouldn’t Éomer be a better choice? I am but a simple soldier.”

Théoden grinned, the shadows of the mischievous boy lurking about the edges of his mouth. “Simple? You? You are anything but simple. Éomer,” the king flicked his finger over the map. “is loyal to Rohan. He needs to be.” A glimmer of pain flashed over his features. “He is now my heir, the next king of Rohan.” For a moment, the king’s eyes were closed, taking in the pain of the still fresh loss of his son. “He also has a quick temper and worries much over his sister.” Slowly, the Lord of Rohan stood up, making his way behind his servant. “You are loyal to me before Rohan.” His hand patted Gamling’s shoulder. 

“Sire, you ARE Rohan.”

He could hear Théoden’s dry chuckle behind him. “Your loyalty is well-noted and you will be rewarded for it. I desire your judgment, your opinion in many things. I need your eyes, your ears closer to me than to your horse. I will speak with Éowyn. She will know where to put you.” The king’s hands patted him reassuringly, before coming around to the opposing side of the table. “There is one other thing.”

“Yes, sire?”

Théoden looked troubled, as if he was trying hard to remember a sliver of information, far removed. “Before... before Grima invaded my mind, I received a message of some importance. I did not have time to dwell on, much less remedy the situation.” Slowly, he perused the map, his fingers tracing to the northern edge of Rohan. “There was a disagreement between families. A childless widow was being refused home or residence by either family. They each claimed she was the other’s responsibility. As a final resort, she contacted me, asking for aid, for an answer to her problem.”

Gamling shrugged. “That is simple, milord. She should remarry.”

Théoden smiled mirthlessly. “ It is not so easy as that. I knew Aefre and her brother, Beadorouf. I rode many times with their father, Finan. He was a loyal subject and fought with great courage. I remember summoning her here before my infirmity, but I know nothing else.”

Gamling set his tankard down and was pinching his nose. A headache had come on quickly and suddenly, the heat and smoke from the fireplace was over-whelming.

“I realize I am asking a lot, but could you ask around, see if she ever arrived. And if she did not, possibly find out what happened.”

Gamling’s eyes were squeezed tight. What he was being asked to do was next to impossible. “Where was she from, milord? I will do what I can.”

Théoden smiled. “I knew I could count on you. She is from The Wold. Aefre of The Wold.”

***

Gamling stared at the room in horror.

_***Here? His Liege had put him here?***_

On one hand, it was too large, too grand, for a simple soldier such as he. On the other...

_***Here? Why in all of Béma’s glory had he put him here in this room?***_

On the other...

Gamling dropped his gear in the doorway, looking into the grandiose room. He ran his fingers through his hair and realized he was sick to his stomach.

The bed was huge, covered with piles of furs left from the previous occupant, the walls covered with strange pelts. He was quite frankly afraid to step in, terrified of what he might find on the desk, in the drawers, on the shelves. After all, the man had left in a tremendous hurry. In fact, he had aided him tremendously in his rushed departure.

“Argh.” It was a quiet groan and he dropped his face into his hands, rubbing hard. Of all the rooms to put him in.

He wondered if it would be considered rude if he told Théoden he would rather sleep in the stables.

_Grima Wormtongue._

The room had a stench, a trace of a foul odor; there was no way in all of the Riddermark, he was going to stay-

“Move over, you big clod! You are here much too fast!”

Gamling felt himself roughly shoved to the side, the chambermaid forcing her way in. She stood with her back to him, fists on hips.

“Bah! They should have stripped and burned the contents of this room when they removed that loathsome creature!” She cocked her head to the side, as if to listen. “Is there anything in here you wish to have?”

“I think I prefer the stable.” He tucked his helmet under his arm and picked up his gear. “Do not clean it on my behalf.”

“Oh, cease your pitiful whining. Théoden King ordered the room for you and you shall have it!” She looked the chamber over and turned...

“I should have known!”

“You!”

They said it at the same time, both staring in shock. She at the overly-fresh Rider and he at the...

_***Sweet thing***_

_***Thing***_

... bath wench with the...

_***saucy***_

magic fingers and...

_***Thing***_

Gamling shook his head, determined to clear it of cloying thoughts and fantasies. He started to back out of the room. “I will tell the king-”

“You’ll tell the king what? That the room isn’t good enough?” She scowled and strode over, yanking the helmet from under his arm. “As manner - less as you are, I’ll not see you swing for impertinence!” Reverently, she laid the helmet on a chair and went to the window. She yanked the curtain back and opened the heavy shutters. Hooking the curtain around a wall hook, she turned to survey the room. “I take it you want nothing that is in the room?”

“I do not wish the room.”

She looked up at the soldier and grinned.

It took his breath away. Ten years dropped from her face and her eyes shone with an almost child-like glee. “I don’t think you have much choice, but if you like, I can make it as if that crumb of a man was never here. You will be sleeping like a lamb in that bed.” She walked the perimeter of the room, ticking off things as she went. “I’ve opened the window, that should clear the odor. We will get rid of the personal effects... you don’t want his clothing, do you? I thought not.” The woman stood in front of him and ... measured him with her hands. “He was not as sturdy or broad as you.” She peered up. “Not as tall either. You’re a fine specimen of a man, I’ll give you that.”

_***what?***_

“... rid of the clothing, the linens. I’ll need help turning the mattress or better yet, I’ll have Willan come up and exchange it. And the rugs... the rugs... Oh, Mother of all that is wise... look at the dust! I swear! That man never let anyone in to clean, it is just...”

_***She talks a lot. Béma, does the woman ever shut up?***_

He watched, stunned, as the woman went through the room, moving things, taking inventory. She pulled aside a curtain, revealing a small room.

“Excuse me?”

She began to screech - a rather painful sound. Apparently, no one had dumped the chamber pot.

The stable was really looking better and better.

And her faaaaar away from it!

She came barreling out of the antechamber.

“Well, that was just disgusting!”

“Excuse me?”

“I will have to find something to remove the odor from the room. That is just horrible.”

“Excuse me!” Gamling stood in front of her and barred her way. She did have the decency to look mildly set back and properly... well... not admonished, but, well she was quiet.

_***thing, saucy, magical fingers thing***_

Gamling rubbed his head with a single finger. “Last night, bathhouse.”

“Yes.”

“Today, chamber maid.”

“Yes.”

His eyes were squeezed shut against the bright sunlight streaming in from the window. “Am I missing something, a connection here?”

“Yes.”

One eye popped open. “Care to explain?”

“No.”

Gamling’s hand went from his forehead, to the back of his neck; his eyes squeezed shut again. Had he been looking, he would have seen a look of worry cross the woman’s face. He didn’t see her remove his helmet from the chair as she shoved him into it.

“You sit there. I’ll bring you up some bread and cheese and possibly some mulled wine, if I can sneak into the storeroom. Oh, hold on...”

He heard her go to the doorway and call to another chambermaid, requesting the food and drink and to send Willan, whoever Willan was, up to her. By the time she had returned, his head was in his hands, headache raging.

“May I ask a rather stupid question?”

“What do you wish to know, m’lord?” Ah! The magic fingers returned, searching for the knot, the tense muscles.

“Are you... assigned... to this chamber?”

_***sweet, sweet, saucy thing with the fingers of the saints oh please**_ *

“I have been now.”

_***Oh Béma thing thing thing sweet thing yes yes right there***_

“Do you have a name?”

Her thumbs circled up over his spinal column and he heard several vertebrae crack. The release of tension to his head was immediate and he felt himself sag in relief.

“Yes. My name is Aefre.”

_***tbc***_


	4. Chapter 4

****

Rider of the Mark 03 

****

The Classic Rohirrim Stumper: Horses vs Women 

_***SweetSweetmagicfingersrightoooohrightthereisjust...***_

“My name is Aefre.”

_***Bémathankyouthankyousweetple-***_

Gamling’s thoughts shattered in pieces, much as the wall of Helm’s Deep had.

“Your name is... Aefre?”

“Yes. What is your name, m’lord?”

He answered without much thought. “Gamling. Just Gamling.” Her fingers resumed their delightful dance on his neck and he allowed his body to rock with her ministrations, mind churning.

“Just Gamling then.” Her thumbs pressed deeper. “You’re stiffening up again. You need to relax.”

Several moments passed.

“Aefre? Are you from the Wold?”

He heard her chuckle lightly. “Yes, I am. Is my accent that noticeable?”

Gamling scowled, groaning inwardly. Pulling away from her, he stood up and turned. “Lady Aefre of the Wold, the king has asked about your well-being. It is my duty to take you to him.”

Aefre looked him as if he had grown a second head. Planting her fists on her hips, her grimace was tinged with exasperation. “If Théoden King has been asking after my well-being, tell him I’m fine. Right now, I have more important things to tend to.”

_***What?***_

Aefre was looking over his shoulder and her eyes brightened. “Willan. Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! I need your help.”

Gamling turned to see the troll of a man who had been in the baths the night before, standing apishly in the doorway. The vexing woman made her way around the Horse Lord and stood before the seemingly dull - witted brute. “I need your help with clearing out this room.” The troll - Willan - glared suspiciously at Gamling. “No, not him!” Aefre smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “He is moving in. We need to remove the stink of Master Wormtongue.” From his facial expression, Willan apparently agreed with her. She moved about the room, gracefully, pointing out things she wished to have done. “We need to replace the mattress, take down the tapestries and have them cleaned, but the first thing is the antecha-”

“M’Lady, if I might -”

“-mber. I’m sorry Willan, but apparently Master Wormtongue has not allowed anyone in this room in ages and he left... well... I’m sorry to ask you to do such a loathsome task-”

“M’Lady, the king has expressed a deep-”

The two were circling each other, Aefre’s back to the large Horse Lord, ignoring him, giving orders to the mute giant. No one seemed to realize that Willan, for all his simplicity, was watching the dance with amused interest.

“May I please have a moment of your attention?” Gamling heavily placed his hand on Aefre’s shoulder to cease her movement and turned her around.

She had the audacity to look put out.

Gamling shook his head and snorted. Women. Who could understand the strange creatures? He couldn’t. They didn’t behave like horses; they didn’t pay attention or do things logically. Had any man in his command purposely ignored him when he spoke he would have found himself mucking stalls.

“Well?” Aefre snapped. “You have my attention, Sir Horse Lord! What is of such great importance that you must stop me from making your rooms habitable?” She looked at him expectantly.

_Her eyes are brown. Brown as the rich dirt of the farmland I was raised on, deep as-***_

“I’m waiting.” She tapped her foot impatiently.

Gamling inhaled sharply. “The King has asked of your whereabouts and has expressed worry for you. I shall take you to him.”

Aefre laughed. No, laugh wasn’t the right word. 

She guffawed. A huge, joyous sound.

“Take me to him?” She patted him on the shoulder. “No, I am going to make this room habitable and you may tell him you have found me and I am fine!” She turned around and began to issue orders to Willan.

Willan actually looked sympathetic towards Gamling’s predicament. With a well-practiced sigh, Gamling tapped her on the shoulder. As she spun around to bellow at him, he scooped her up and slung her like a sack of horse feed over his shoulder, knocking the wind from her lungs. He turned to the large man standing at the foot of the bed and gestured around the room. “You have your orders?”

Willan smiled and nodded his assent. As he turned to leave the room, Gamling could have sworn the mute... saluted.

Aefre found her lungs and proceeded to tell Gamling - and everyone else - exactly what she thought.

“You great oaf! What do you think you are doing?” She attempted to kick her way off the Horse Lord’s shoulders. In order to keep her steady and secure, Gamling grabbed her backside and held her down.

“The king has charged me with your whereabouts. I am taking you to him.” 

“Get your hand off my backside, you great, hairy cretin!”

“Tell the Great Hall, while you are at it.” Gamling mumbled. The Captain was grimacing, scowling at anyone who crossed his path causing several serving women to step back, startled.

_***Thingthingsweetbummagicfingersthingthingsweet...***_

Aefre took no notice that she was being carried through the Great Hall, people staring at the Horse Lord striding so purposefully with a wench slung over his shoulder.

“You clod! You bonehead! Never in all my days have I come across such a dullard...” Her voice echoed beautifully in the rafters of the Golden Hall.

Four pairs of eyes watched closely.

“Is this a mating ritual I am unaware of, Aragorn?” Legolas asked quietly.

The Ranger watched as the Horse Lord carried the screaming woman towards the hall leading to the King’s chambers. “It’s not one that I’m aware of.” He drew deeply on his pipe. “Although it does look... most intriguing.”

“If I were him,” Gimli nodded sagely, “I would be most reluctant to put her down!”

The volume of Aefre’s screaming seemed to lessen. However, she began to hammer the Horse Lord around his backside. At least, Gamling thought she was smacking him. He could hear her smacking, the staccato sound punctuated by the continued verbal lambasting of his intelligence and personality, but the force was not making much headway through his tunic and leggings. Soon enough, he was outside Théoden’s door, and kicking it open, he strode inside.

“Set me down, you boar!”

With a satiric grin, Éomer looked up from the table, where he was going over maps with his uncle. “Showing off your fine catch, Gamling?”

_***funnyfunnyharharyounglingbratitaughtyoutoride...***_

The screeching again crescendoed from behind him. By the gods of the Riddermark, she could put the Horn of Hammerhelm to rest! Gamling decided to ignore her and leered at Théoden’s heir.

“She leapt in my arms. What’s a Rider to do? Perhaps I should throw her back?”

“I did no such thing! You ninny! You-”

“Don’t you have a room you could take her to?” Éomer used his knife to tack down a corner of the map he was studying and picked up his tankard. “Or did you want advice on your bedding technique?” He raised his mug to the Horse Lord with the screaming woman swung over his shoulder.

_***technique? What business is it...”_

“Gamling.” Théoden had been standing by the fireplace, watching the exchange. “I know there is a reason you have brought a woman forcibly into my private chambers. Perhaps, you could tell me why?”

Gratefully, Gamling turned his attention from the young whelp at the table and carried the screaming woman, who now had suddenly decided to be quiet, bless the gods, to stand in front of the king. “My Lord, I give you the Lady Aefre of the Wold.”

Aefre made the mistake of deciding at that time to start wiggling anew, in an effort to free herself. That, combined with the fact that Gamling was attempting to set her on the floor, caused him to lose his grip and she landed with a thud on her backside, legs sprawled, facing the King of Rohan.

Two different hands presented themselves to assist her from the floor. She smacked away the hand that had brought her here and allowed Théoden to help her rise. “My Lord.” She made her bow, a rather lady-like dip. She turned to hiss over her shoulder, “You are a warg - riding orc-”

Gamling’s countenance darkened and Théoden moved quickly to stop the rising argument. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her away from his thunderous Captain. “Please, Aefre, Gamling is one of my most trusted and valued servants. But I beg you do not insult his horse. Even I would be unable to stop the explosion.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I need his level head in these most perilous times.” Finding a comfortable chair, he turned her and set her in it. He glared at his still grinning nephew. “Go find your sister. I do not wish the lady to feel overwhelmed.” Éomer slowly stood up from the table. “Now, would be nice.” The younger man heard the gentle, but steel - edged rebuke in his uncle’s voice and with a slightly ashamed bow towards Aefre, Éomer made his way to the door.

Only Gamling saw the age - old fist pump Éomer made to him as he exited the room.

_***Brat! And I handed you your first woman!***_

He made to follow Éomer, but Théoden stopped him, instructing him to pour three goblets of wine, one for each of them.

Théoden pulled a chair up towards Aefre and began to examine her hands. “You have the look of your grandmother.”

“You remember her?” Aefre had gone from a howling harpy to a soft-spoken woman. The change was sudden and it made Gamling’s mind reel. 

Théoden was smiling. “I was much younger, but aye, I remember your formidable grandmother. She was from Gondor, near the same place as my mother.”

That would explain her dark hair and eyes. Most from the Riddermark were fair and blue eyed. In a way, it made her stand out, and Gamling admitted he found the effect slightly exotic.

Théoden was leaning towards her, smiling. “Would you like to hear a secret?” Aefre relaxed and nodded. “Your grandmother taught me some of the most colorful curses!”

Aefre was giggling, a light girlish sound. “She taught me a few as well.” She looked down at the hands holding hers. “I loved her very much.” Slowly, the smile slid from her face. “I miss her.”

Théoden tightened his grip on her hands. “Doubtless, she would have had much to say over your situation, which we have need to discuss.” He took the goblets from Gamling and handed her one. “I am sorry. I have been so very remiss in my duties.”

“You were ill, sire. It was not your fault. Éowyn was here when I arrived and she saw me settled.”

As if hearing her name, Éowyn pushed into the room, her brother at her heels.

“Aefre! I thought you were over-seeing that Gamling’s rooms are set to rights.”

Aefre’s eyes met Gamling’s, a heated, smoldering gaze that he answered like-wise. “I was informed that the king wished to see me.”

He had to raise his goblet to her. Most women would be cowed in front of their liege. This one did not back down.

_***hothothothergazewassweetsweetthingthingthinghthing***_

Hmmm. 

Théoden and Éowyn both saw the exchange. Théoden decided to explore that later, However, now...

“Éowyn, you knew of Lady Aefre’s arrival?”

Éowyn had the grace to blush slightly under her uncle’s scrutiny. “It is not every day a woman shows up at the gates of Edoras on horseback, escorted by three retainers. You were... ill. Neither Éomer nor Gamling were here, so I listened to her story and found her a place.”

“There are two sides to every story, sire.” Gamling examined the wine in his goblet. “Has anyone contacted the other party?”

Aefre immediately shot up to her feet. “You accuse me of twisting the truth? Then you are an orc as well as an arse! Where were you when my home was overrun by lice-carrying miscreants? How dare you question my... you loathsome...”

_***firefirefiredon’tplaywithfirebutitissomuchfunfirefirefire***_

Somehow, Théoden calmed the irate woman, getting her to sit back down. She and Éowyn began to whisper, Éowyn’s voice soothing, Aefre’s punctuated with sharp consonants and hissing. As he passed the Horse Lord, to refill his and her goblets, Théoden quietly admonished the man. “Gamling. Teasing a defenseless woman. Surely, your manners are better than that.”

Feeling like a corrected child, Gamling dug his toes in his boots. “I am sorry sire, but she is -”

“Female. I know. We will discuss that later. Drink up and listen.” Théoden sat again across from the woman and waited as she finished her second goblet of wine. “Aefre. What has happened? The last time I saw you was right after your wedding.” His hand tightened on hers. “I was so saddened for your loss when Lufian was killed.”

Aefre’s eyes were lowered and Éowyn removed the goblet from her hands, handing it to Gamling. “My marriage to Lufian was a good one. It strengthened ties between his and my father’s house. We loved each other much. His loss was...” from somewhere another goblet of wine was pressed into her hands and she drank deeply. “I felt as if a part of me was ripped out. He was brought back alive, sire. It took him three long, horrible days to die.” She became very quiet. “I found out later that my father and brother were also lost in that battle.”

For several minutes, it was quiet while she finished her wine. Éowyn went to take her goblet, to refill it yet again, but Aefre shook her head. “No more. I will be useless the rest of the day.” She refocused on Théoden. “My sister in law was pregnant and the loss of my brother hit hard. She gave birth early, but her son thrived. Lufian was an only child. I heard him speak of a few far removed cousins, but I never met them and they never came to visit. There were no messages from them. I governed his Hall, as I had when we were married.”

“Imagine my surprise when four years after his death, his cousin Gifre arrived, informed us that he was the next male heir and displaced me. He appeared with a... gang of Riders. One moment, I had a home and the next, they were swiving my servants and I was told that if I wished a bed to sleep in, I would have to share it with him.”

“Your guards did not repel him?” Gamling’s question was soft spoken.

“There were more of them than of us. We were unprepared.” She turned back to the king. “It had been four years. I quickly packed my things, managed to take the small things important to me. My serving women and I, along with what was left of my husband’s Riders, made haste to my brother’s home.”

“I realized within a week what a mistake that was. Eadlyn seems to be a vapid, helpless creature. She is a weak chatelaine and when the servants began to ask me for guidance, she informed me that her home was not big enough for all - meaning me. She had her son’s inheritance to look out for and the cost of my retinue was too staggering an amount. She suggested I return to my husband’s hall and acquiesce to Gifre. She did, however, like my servants enough to keep them. I sent a messenger to Edoras immediately. When word came that you had sent for me, My Lord, I left immediately.”

“Aefre. Where did you stay in the meantime?” Gamling was curious. “Your sister-in-law did not wish your presence, yet you could not return to your husband’s home.”

Aefre gave a sneaky smile. “My grandmother had her own home, removed from the main hall. It was a day’s hard ride from my father’s house, built for her as there were times he and she did not get along. It had been left to me and I doubt my brother told Eadlyn about it. She was always a greedy thing and demanded more than her due. I could remain there indefinitely, and be self-sufficient. The house needs work, work I cannot afford to pay for. My grandmother has been dead for fifteen years and no one has resided there in that time. A few of my women came with me there; those that were married or romantically attached to the few men left that were loyal to my husband. But the home is in a sad state of disrepair. There are not enough of us to fix it, nor did I want to bring attention to us. There are not enough men to defend it under an all out attack. I would not put it past my sister in law to decide the place belongs to the estate and I worry about my deceased husband’s cousin.” Aefre shuddered. “ He is a scoundrel, a horrid person. He stank of old ale and sweat and did not believe in bathing. His touch was abhorrent.”

Éowyn squeezed her hand. She understood the feeling well; she, too, knew what it as like to have attentions forced on one by someone when you couldn’t stand to be in their presence.

Aefre took a deep breath and looked into the eyes of Théoden, sensing his thoughts. “I realize, Sire, that I am imposing on your hospitality. There are those that feel I should remarry. Perhaps I should. However, in my first marriage, I married for love. I would like that opportunity again. In fact, I shall settle for nothing less.” Her tone was emphatic and even Théoden could hear the finality of her words.

“Then, for love you shall marry. I take it Éowyn has found you a place to stay?”

“Yes, Uncle.” Éowyn’s smile was a fond one. “Aefre has aided me greatly in day to day management of the Golden Hall. She is used to running large households with garrisons and most-” she made a point to look hard at Gamling, “do not try to rouse her ire. I have also discovered that she is eager to do work wherever it needs to be done.”

_***Ah. So that is why she was one night in the baths and the next morning ordering men and servants about upstairs.***_

Éowyn continued in her glowing praise of the woman. “I have found her guidance and counsel to be helpful and true. She has refused to act the pampered lady, and insists on helping everywhere and anywhere in trade for a room and a place to stable her horse.” She leaned over and stage whispered, “Willan adores her.”

“That is saying something,” Théoden agreed.

The room was quiet; the only sound the crackle of the fire and popping of the wood.

“Sire, there is much to be done if your man’s room is to be prepared in time for him to sleep in the bed tonight. If it is your will, might I leave now to oversee the work?”

Théoden waved the women out, watching Gamling’s eyes scrutinizing Aefre closely. As the door whispered shut, the Rider made his way to the window, surveying the tent town outside the walls.

“Ideas, my friend?”

Gamling almost smiled at the compliment. “Many... thoughts, sire. This,” he gestured to the refugees, “weighs heavily on you.”

“And what weighs on you?”

For a moment, the rugged soldier was quiet. Then...

“Why did her husband’s kinsman wait four years to assert his rights?” He turned and stared at the king. “He must have frightened her badly for her to abandon her home; to run as quickly as possible to her brother’s.” He turned to look at the king over his shoulder. “If you do not need me, sire, I would like to go for a ride. Dréogan has not been out in several days and he gets irritable, when he is cooped up.”

“As do you.” Théoden smiled and waved him out. He waited for Gamling to make his bow and leave before addressing his nephew.

“What think you?”

Éomer was using his knife to peel an apple. “What think I? You know, as well as I, when Gamling is chewing on something, he rides.”

“And what do you think he thinks about?”

Éomer was smirking. “Besides her? Not much else. His romantic skills are rusty. He has been alone for many years and doesn’t think past the night’s enjoyment on the few occasions he has invited a woman to bed. I have never known him to take an unwilling wench to his bedroll, nor does he have to beg.”

Théoden was looking over the refugee camp and he watched his trusted Captain stride down the hill towards the stables. “He goaded her.”

“Aye. Carried her screaming through the halls as well. With that act, he has marked her as his. Even if he didn’t mean to, he has.” Éomer joined him at the window, looking down at the retreating figure in green and the colorful tents. “He could do worse. She has land, a small, if ramshackle home. The Wold could use more good Riders.” Éomer fingered his beard. “Perhaps, Éowyn and I could collaborate, work to bring them together...” his voice trailed off.

“You will do no such thing. The last time your sister and you attempted to match make, the poor couple refused to speak to each other for months, making the Golden Hall a cold place indeed.”

“It was winter.”

“Éomer!”

“But they got together eventually.” Éomer protested.

“But the months between were inhabitable! No! No romantic trysts planned, no arrows of love. You are not a winged godlet of love!” Théoden stomped over to the pitcher and poured himself a mug of mead. “Gamling is a good man. An honorable Rider of the Mark. He has been alone for a long time. If the two of them manage to get past each other’s prickly shielding, they will do it on their own.” He dipped his nose into the mug. “Leave them be.”

Éomer was now tossing the apple core. “I saw his eyes follow her, scrutinizing her every move.”

“And her eyes followed him. I know. I saw.” Théoden set the tankard down with a solid thud. “Bah. I am an old man and once we decide on how to deal with the mess with Gondor, we will have to begin looking for a wife for you.”

“Me? A wife? Why?”

“No wilting Princess for you. She will have to be brave and tough. Perhaps our Aefre will agree to marry you...”

“No. No, no, and no again.” Éomer clomped to the door. “I will marry, when I am ready. You, old man,” he pointed to his uncle, a fire in his eye, “should think to remarry yourself before messing in others’ love lives!” It dawned on him immediately what he had said. “Sir, I-”

Théoden waved him off, good-naturedly. “ ‘Tis good you are my nephew and not a lowly stable boy. Be gone with you. Go terrorize a serving wench.” He turned to the window, seeing Gamling now on Dréogan’s back, picking his way slowly around the townspeople. “Strange. What troubles you is her kinsmen. It troubles me as well.” The breeze picked up and as Gamling made his way through the gates, his warhorse launched into a gallop, stretching his legs; Gamling’s cloak and hair streaming behind him. 

***  
tbc  
***

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view&current=Riderchpt3byBeckyW.jpg)

Artwork by Becky W.


	5. 04 On a Wing and Some Kind of Prayer

****

Rider of the Mark 04 

****

On a Wing and some kind of Prayer 

Gamling wove through the milling throng of people; women and children, the occasional Rider who nodded in deference. As he made his way to the stables, his mind whirled with snippets of conversation concerning Aefre.

Too soon, he strode through the doors, into the well-kept stable. Dréogan had his head over the door, nuzzling the grey dappled mare in the stall next to him.

“Well, you’re a pretty thing.” He reached over to scratch her soft muzzle. She allowed the petting to continue for a few moments before tossing her head and prancing to the back of her stall, looking at him over her shoulder. “Sassy too.” Haughtily, she tossed her head, successfully turning her back on him. As her ebony tail swished, he noticed an unusual black marking across her rump...

_***a wing?***_

Gamling looked at his stallion.

Dréogan was... glaring?

_***You interrupted!***_

Gamling grabbed the saddle pad and saddle, slinging them over and on the stall door.

“Forget it! I’m not getting any; why should you?” He tossed him an apple from his pouch, which the beast nimbly grabbed from the air. In short time, he had the animal saddled and bridled, and with the effortless ease of one raised on horseback, Gamling swung up and made his way through the city gates and into open fields.

There was something about the wind; freedom, a sense of escape, even if only for a short time. He pulled up on Dréogan, sniffing the wind, searching for anything out of line.

Nothing. 

Good.

A small mound of rocks lay in the distance. Gamling pointed the warhorse in that direction and gave him a nudge. Dréogan took off, nose out. Muscles bunched and tucked, only to stretch as Dréogan’s stride lengthened, and anyone watching would have been overwhelmed at the oneness of horse and rider; the graceful movement and the unspoken communication between the two. 

Wind riffled through the long locks of both horse and rider. 

He should have brought his helmet, but truth was, he hated the thing. It stifled him, made it difficult to breathe. It made him sweat and his nose itch. So far, he had been lucky. Someday, he knew he wouldn’t be.

As they neared the rock pile, Gamling’s mind returned to the problem he had been mulling over for a little time.

Her.

Such a contradiction from what he had wrongly assumed.

No simple serving wench, not someone to dally with.

A capable chatelaine... widowed... not only ran but governed a Hall for four years. Alone. Had married for love.

A lady. 

No.

A Lady.

_Big difference, Gamling. One raised in graciousness and one who was used to the niceties in life, certainly not what a career soldier could possibly hope for. What could he possibly offer her?_

Safety.

He pulled up short.

_Where in Béma’s name had THAT come from?_

Slowly, Dréogan made his way to the top of a small hillock. Surveying the land beneath him, Gamling leaned on his saddle.

She was saucy; he would give her that. She was woefully independent, probably wouldn’t be one to take orders or obey a husband’s wishes. No doubt, she had had her husband wrapped so tightly around her finger, all she had to do was crook it and watch him dance like a stringed puppet.

Well, there was one thing Gamling did not do and that was dance!

Béma!

Why was he even thinking of her? Romance! Bah! The last thing he had time for was the wooing of a woman, especially one with an unbearably high opinion of herself! He turned Dréogan to look back at Edoras. To him, it was the most beautiful sight, rising over the open field, like a guidepost... a ray of light.

He had never seen the cities of Gondor, of Belfalas. He had heard stories of the White City - Minas Tirith; its seven levels, rising over Pelennor Fields. The women of Belfalas were rumored to be uncommonly beautiful and exotic.

Much like rich food.

No. Too much rich food made one slow, ponderous. If he ever married, it would be to someone sturdy, someone...

Had anyone walked up on Rider and Horse, they would have wondered why the Man shook his head as if to fling water from the roots of his hair.

_***no no no no no no!***_

Why had her husband’s kin waited so long to claim the manor? Rohan was not so big that it would take so long for a man to discover he owned land and hearth.

Gamling’s hand clenched tightly, unconsciously pulling on the reins and causing Dréogan to look at him askance. Why had the man threatened her? That was sheer stupidity. All knew running the day-to-day affairs of a Hall was a woman’s work.

_***Someone should find out. Someone should...***_

Bah!

There was only one way to cease this train of thought.

He stared hard at the tent city dotting the hillside outside the city walls.

_***The Lost. The Homeless.***_

Théoden worried greatly about that lot.

He had reason to. 

After an hour or two of riding in circles around Edoras, he and Dréogan made their way back to the Golden Hall.

***

Aefre was in a sweat. For several hours, she and Willan, with the aid of two other serving women, slaved clearing out the room to be Gamling’s. They removed the heavy drapes, took down the smoke- stinking tapestries. They were so filthy, one could not see the embroidery on them.

Disgusting!

The rugs were taken up and were now hanging on a line out back, being beaten by two large women. The clothing left had been sent to the laundry, to be given to the needy. Aefre had told the girl removing them to wash them in lye soap at least five times. Willan removed the offending pots from the antechamber and Aefre found a large tub that wasn’t too badly battered, to be brought up later. The mattress on the bed was gone; it too, would find a new home somewhere else, once it had been cleaned and restuffed with new feathers. Aefre spoke with Éowyn and between the two women, they found a feather mattress in an unused room. All of Grima’s belongings were removed.

Only one thing left.

Aefre knew that there were those who might think what she did would be strange, but the old ways had been taught to her by her formidable grandmother. The room reeked of old sweat and smells she did not want to consider. Gamling was a pain in her arse, but he deserved better than the leavings of an evil being.

This had been *his* room. Evil would still lurk in any crevice where it could get a toehold. Gamling was Théoden’s most trusted advisor; someone the King would go as far as to consider a good friend. In no way could she allow the festering stench of Grima to impose itself on the King’s most trusted companion.

“Pah! This room stinks of Wormtongue stench!” She sent the two girls to the kitchens for lunch and Willan out to oversee the beating of the rugs. She then went to the storerooms to retrieve necessary items. She came back with a broom and a small bowl of clean water, along with an herb sack.

She ran into Gamling on her way back to the rooms.

Damn the man. He looked wind-blown, hale, and pink cheeked from riding as fast as his poor, unfortunate steed would take him.

In a strange way, he reminded her of her husband.

Béma! Where at that thought come from? Her husband had made her feel safe. This one irritated her with his methodical ways and knowing stare. She stepped backwards, trying to steady her thoughts, to move out of his way. She didn’t realize she was clutching her items to her. She was vaguely aware of his hands reaching out.

“Allow me.” Somewhere, someone had taught the brute courtly manners, as he gently took her burden from her. “ I assume you are taking these to my room?”

“Yes.” Strange. Her voice sounded far away.

Gamling cocked an eyebrow before turning and heading towards his room.

With her things.

Getting a grip on her emotions, she ran after him. “Please, you do not need to carry those-”

Gamling stopped and looked down at her, the difference in their heights suddenly apparent.

“I am afraid I offended you this morning, my Lady.” It was carefully said, but Aefre could sense the steel underlying the words. “Allow me to assist you.” He started to turn back towards his room.

“Nay, nay. This is a servant’s work. Don’t worry yourself over mundane...”

“But it is *my* room.” he shrugged rather elegantly. “I wish to assist you. And you,” he seemed to be reminding her, “are no servant.” He turned again towards his rooms and strode off rather quickly, causing Aefre to almost run in order to keep up.

_***Insufferable man!***_

He strode through the doors, carrying her things to the table and setting them down. With large hands, he began to rummage through the items.

“What is all this?”

The scowl he was becoming so familiar with flashed at him, her hands smacking at his. “Thank you. You may leave.”

“No.”

She continued to smack at him, slight stinging designed not to hurt, but simply to get his attention.

_***Well, she has my attention. Why does she want me gone?***_

He smacked her back and slid the items further from her. He picked up the obvious.

“A broom.”

_*** If looks could kill, Dréogan would be Riderless...***_

She reached for it, but he was in a teasing mood. Twisting it sideways, he held it up over his head, out of her reach. “There is not enough water in that bowl to clean the floors.”

“I am not going to clean the floors with that!” She now sounded completely exasperated. “Are you going to leave or not?”

The man had an evil, mischievous smile that made him look younger. “You wish me gone?”

“Yes, yes! I wish you gone! I have things to do and you are in my way.” She shooed at him. “Put down my broom and begone! Here!” She picked up an apple from the bowl Willan had left earlier. “Take this to your over-taxed horse.”

The smile never faded; in fact, the obnoxious fiend only grinned even more. “Oh, I believe I have mucked out a stall or two in my lifetime. I don’t think cleaning a room would be much different.” He two-handed the broom to the floor, his grip firmly on the handle. “Which corner should I start with?”

He was not going to leave. Aefre’s mind whirled. Fine. So be it.

He returned his attention to the sack on the table, and was rummaging through it, leaving her standing with her hand still wrapped around the apple. “Sticks?” He pulled out smaller sacks. “Is this salt?... Sand?... I’m impressed! You are bringing the barn to me!”

Aefre narrowed her eyes.

_***odious jack ass! ***_

_***She is so much fun to bait. Firefirefirehothothot!***_

“Do you really mean to stay?”

Gamling shrugged. “Aye. I have nothing better to do.” He gestured to the room. “Where would you have me start?”

“I would have you gone!”

“So sorry, My Lady.” If anything, the grip on the broom handle became firmer.

Aefre finally sighed. Fine. So be it. She started to point him to the doorframe, but then decided he should be a part of the ritual. After all, he asked for this. “Stand in front of the door. About two or three steps forward.” A single finger shot up in his face, causing him to jerk up and slightly back. “Do not interrupt to ask questions. Once I begin, I cannot stop.” She turned and returned to the center of the room. “Whatever questions you have will have to wait.” She snorted inelegantly. “I do need the broom, however. If you like, I will give it back when I’m done.” Again, she handed him the apple.

Gamling finally took the offered fruit. Rather than relinquish the broom, he propped himself on it and proceeded to munch on the apple.

“Must you be so loud?”

“I’ll try to chew more quietly,” he acquiesced, before taking another bite.

Aefre rolled her eyes. Béma save her from men! His grip had loosened and before he could figure out what she was doing, she snatched the broom from his grasp, leaving him staggering for balance.

“Wha-”

“I’ll give it back!” Looking through the window at the direction of the sun, Aefre went to the easternmost corner and began to sweep around the outer edge of the room in a clockwise direction.

“You’re missing the middle.”

Aefre said nothing, but her glare all but screamed for his silence. She completed the circle of the room making sure he was inside the circle, and as promised, handed the broom back to the disbelieving Horse Lord.

She returned to the center of the room.

She breathed deeply, cleansing breaths and dropped her head. For several minutes the only sound heard was the soft cacophony of life coming from outside the window. When she raised her head, he could not even see the rise and fall of her breath, it was so shallow. She turned to face the back of the room...

“I call to the Guardian of the East,” she clapped her hands together once. She turned to the right. “I call to the Guardian of the South.” She clapped again. She repeated her call to the West, then to the North, before lowering her hands and stepping to the table. Setting the bundle of sand to the side, she took the small bundle of salt, she dipped her fingers in, scooping a good pinch into the small bowl of water. She then reached across the table and bunching them neatly, she bundled the twigs, tying them together with twine pulled from her pocket. She set them down next to the sand, before picking up the salted water.

Stepping back to the middle of the room, she faced East and dipped her fingers in the water. She flung gently, splattering the floor with water droplets. “Guardian of the East, cleanse this room and make it pure.” She turned, facing South, again sprinkling salted water. “Guardian of the South, cleanse this room and remove the stench of the minion who resided here before.” Turn. Dip. Sprinkle. “Guardian of the West, cleanse this room and remove the lingerings of Saruman.” Turn. Dip. Sprinkle. “Guardian of the North, cleanse this room and remove all that would bode ill here.”

She then sprinkled water all around herself, saying, “Guardians all, purify this place, let Air and Fire, Earth and Water cleanse it!” She turned the bowl upside down; it was empty.

Gamling watched, hand and apple at his mouth; fascinated at the ritual. Aefre returned to the table and set down the empty bowl. She picked up the bag of sand and dumped it into the bowl and then picked up the twig bundle. She moved to the fireplace, where a low fire was burning and thrust the twigs in, catching the ends on fire. She removed them and blew until the flames subsided; smoke and glowing embers all that remained. Gamling caught the scent of herbs; sage, thyme, others. She returned to the center of the room and was again facing East. She moved in a circle, clockwise. Her words were softly spoken and he had to lean to hear what she said.

“... the Air; with this smoke, I cleanse the Fire, with this smoke I cleanse the Earth; with this smoke I cleanse the Water.” She completed the circle and stood still. “With this smoke, I cleanse myself.” She waved the bundle of smoking herbs all around herself. She turned and approached Gamling, who froze. She waved the herbs all around him: “With this smoke I cleanse this man.” Then, she extinguished the burning herbs into the bowl of sand. She stood still, looking into some far distance. Then, she raised her arms over her head, made obeisance to the four directions, walked once counter - clockwise around the room, and shook herself as if she was coming out of sleep.

She dusted her hands, knocking small bits of herb, salt and sand to the floor. “ There. It’s done,” she said briskly. “I can get this room cleaned up now.” Catching the Horse Lord off guard, she snatched the broom from him and leaned it against the hearth. “You wanted to help? You may help then. Go to the yards and aid Willan in bringing clean rugs and furs for the floor. I’m afraid,” and with this she turned, to peruse the wooden walls, “that your walls will be bare until I can find something suitable for them or make something for you to hang. I will bring something to go over the window at night.” She made to step around him, leaving him stunned in the middle of the floor. “Well, at the very least you will sleep in a bed tonight.” She shook her finger at him. “A real bed! Why tarry you?” She shooed him, herding him to the door. “Those rugs are not going to walk up by themselves. Go!”

_***funny strange little witch***_

Gamling stepped back and made a rather courtly bow. “You first, My Lady.” 

Aefre scowled and stepped around him, and found herself having to side step Éomer. She looked back over her shoulder. The stress on ‘My’ was obvious and pointed. “Don’t call me that!” She stepped around Théoden’s heir with a withering glance and moved around him.

Éomer grinned like a puppy at her retreating figure. He leaned against the doorframe, with his arms crossed.

“Cleanse this man? Didn’t you take a bath last evening?”

Gamling strode across the room. “Don’t you know a woman’s magic when you see it? It was important to her. Leave it be.”

“She has nice hips.”

Gamling’s head was thrust through the doorway, to see said nice hips sway down the hallway.

_***very nice... fit the ha-***_

“In fact, they would fit one’s hands just right.” Gamling turned to see Éomer using his hands to gauge the span of her hips.

“Don’t think I do not I remember yours and Éowyn’s match-making from three winters past.” He straightened up and proceeded to leave the room, heading for the back yards. “The two of you made their lives miserable and ours to boot!”

“Claénnis and Elne are very happy now. You could use a good woman in your life, Gamling.”

“I have a horse. I have all I need.”

“But still. Wouldn’t you want someone to warm your bed on a cold night? I mean, that’s a big bed in your new room and surely, you’ll be lonely...”

Éomer felt his nose grabbed by a tight grip. “Perhaps, youngling, you would like the bed. Maybe it would lure YOU a nice Princess?”

“Gambing. Turb looz ub muh dooz...”

Éomer’s nose was released and he rubbed it grudgingly. “There was no need-”

“I have no need of a wide bed to pleasure a wench or to keep me warm. My bedroll or my cloak has always been enough to suffice.” He turned to head down the hallway again. He made it two or three steps before firing over his shoulder, “Standing up as well!”

Éomer watched his uncle’s and his own friend stalk out of sight, continuing to rub his injured nose. “That’s it! You deserve her!” And with a final rub, he turned to find his sister.

***  
tbc  
***


	6. 05 Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

A bolt of light shot across the room, zinging pinpoints over his eyelids and waking the Horse Lord in a most abrupt manner. He growled at the intrusion of the happy, whistling invading his blessed quietness.

_***Where am I?***_

This was not the comfort of the fireplace in the Great Hall, nor could he smell timothy hay.

Dréogan was not breathing down his neck!

_***Béma! Would that woman-***_

“Stop whistling!”

“I’m sorry, m’lord.” Aefre’s voice was bright, perky, and she did not sound sorry at all. “The King desires your presence at breakfast this morn.” 

Gamling opened one eye to see ‘that woman’ standing at the foot of his bed, seemingly admiring his form. 

“I see,” she continued cheekily, “that I’m going to have to put up bed curtains, seeing how you’re a slug - a -bed and sleep in the altogether!”

Gamling grabbed at his covers, pulling them higher-

_***nothing is showing... what is she talking about?***_

\- up and growled, “Did you like what you think you saw?”

Aefre turned her back on him, so he would not see the blush creep across her cheeks. “You are no different from any other man I’ve seen!” She reset the drapery behind the hook on the wall. “Now that you are up, I can go for a ride!” she said over-brightly. “Hurry now. Théoden King is pacing the floor.” Aefre started towards the door.

“Aefre.” Gamling sat up, furs bunched around his waist. “Is there something wrong, to have upset the King?”

Aefre stopped, her shoulders slumped. “Aye.” Gamling had to lean forward to hear. “Something happened to one of the Hobbits.”

“The Halflings? What happened to them? Which one?”

Aefre turned slightly, eyes downcast. “Pippin. Something happened to Pippin.”

***

Gamling’s headache was immediate and throbbing. Was there ever a time when life was simple and quiet? In the stroke of a sword, Grima Wormtongue had literally wormed his way into Théoden’s head, almost bringing Rohan to its knees, Helm’s Deep had almost fallen and now-

Pippin had played with fire. 

The Fire.

Voices murmured back and forth, talk of war, talk of Gondor, of Sauron. It was obvious that Gandalf and the Ranger expected Rohan to rise to the aid of Gondor.

Théoden was not enthused.

He questioned the Istari and the Ranger and rightfully so. Why should Rohan answer?

Why indeed?

In the end, it was decided to send the little Hobbit to Minas Tirith, away from Rohan.

And Théoden still questioned why.

***

“Why should we ride to Gondor’s aid? Give me one reason!” Théoden was leaning over the table, worry-lines evident.

“Well, there is the agreement our ancestor made when our people were granted this land by Steward Cirion.” Éomer was quick to assert.

Théoden’s hand swept over the map, frown marring his features. “A forgotten agreement from a forgotten time.” His eyes slid toward’s Gamling.

Gamling sighed heavily.

_***Since when did 500 years become a forgotten time?***_

“They did not come in our time of need. Why should we go to theirs?”

“Sire, we did not call for them.” Gamling gently reminded him. “There was no time.”

“Denethor would not have come anyway!” Théoden’s hand slammed down, covering Gondor with the palm. “If Gandalf is to be believed - and I do believe him - Gondor is losing inch by inch to Sauron and Mordor. Had we lit the beacons, they would not have been able to come.”

Aye. That much was true.

“If Minas Tirith falls, Gondor will fall.” Éomer’s hand swept the corner of the map. “And then Sauron will be at our borders.”

“Saruman was only a warm-up, a sample, of what Sauron will throw at us.” Théoden was simmering on the borders of fury, his teeth set on edge. “We should shore up our defense here-” he pointed, “ - and here. What do you think, Gamling?”

_***I think I have a headache that would split the whole of the Earth and we will still die...***_

“You want to honestly know what I think?” 

“No, Gamling! Lie to me!” Théoden growled. “Tell me there isn’t a gaping hole in the supposedly impregnable wall of Helm’s Deep! Tell me Saruman isn’t in league with Sauron! Tell me the whole of the Earth isn’t going to fall into an abyss! Tell me the One Ring hasn’t been found and doesn’t lie in the hands of a Hobbit trying to sneak into the snake pit!” The fire glowed eerily behind the King of Rohan. “Tell me my son isn’t dead! Tell me, it’s all a lie!”

Gamling never batted an eye. “ I cannot tell you any of that.”

Théoden hung his head. “I’m sorry, my friend. Of course I want to know what you truly think.”

Gamling leaned over the table and looked over the map of Middle Earth. “I think we should go to Gondor’s aid, sire.”

Théoden grimaced. “You, as well? What is it with the young?” he asked the air. “All you think of is glory and war-”

“I am not so young, sire.” While Gamling’s voice was quiet, the steel underneath was obvious. “At least, not as young as yon hothead.” He nodded to Éomer, who responded with a smirk. “There is the promise, yes, but beyond that, we don’t have the strength to withstand Sauron’s forces. If we join with Gondor, we stand a better chance of defeating him.”

Théoden took in his words, mulling them over. “If we fall in Gondor, who will protect Rohan? Women? Children? That pile of homeless refugees on the hill?”

Gamling and Éomer looked at each other before Gamling answered. “If Gondor falls, who will aid us? We will fall.” He finally looked at Théoden. “We must aid Gondor to give Rohan a chance.”

There was no sound save that of the crackling fire in the hearth.

“Then we are agreed.” Théoden exhaled. “If Gondor calls for aid, Rohan will answer.”

“Aye! To war and glory!” Éomer jovially raised his tankard, only to be smacked in the back of the head by Gamling. Éomer rubbed his head, as he watched the elder Horse Lord wander to the window.

“Any thoughts on where to put our refugees?” 

Gamling did not acknowledge Théoden’s question for several moments. Finally, he shook his head. “Nay. Not a one.”

For a time, the three went over the maps, questioning, estimating the numbers of Riders in each area, each part of the Mark. The sun rose higher and continued its fiery march across the sky, as they took their midday meal sequestered in Théoden’s chambers.

They did not hear Éowyn slip into the chambers.

She stood against the door watching the three men plan, exchange and argue out ideas. Théoden was the first to notice her.

“Éowyn, do you need something?” His voice was tired and weary.

Éowyn looked nervously at her brother and then back to her uncle. “I... it’s Aefre, Uncle.”

_*** That Woman? Now what has she done? Did she set the bed on fire with some strange woman’s ritual...***_

Théoden stood tall, brow knitted. “Is she ill?”

“Nay, it’s-” she looked again to Éomer, then to Gamling, before looking at Théoden again. “-she went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t re-”

_*** Now that you are up, I can go for a ride-***_

“-turned. This is very unlike her.”

“She left the city walls?”

Éowyn had the audacity to look put out at Gamling. “Like you, m’lord, she likes to exercise her horse and feel the freedom of the wind from time to time. It is difficult to do that within the walls!”

“She rides?”

_***Ooh. Did I just say that out loud?***_

Apparently, he had. Éowyn was looking at him in disgust.

“Yes, she rides.” Théoden broke the silence with a humorous spirit. “Like the wind, as I recall.” He smiled fondly. “In her younger days, she was a fierce Shield Maiden and she wielded a wicked morningstar!”

“Morningstar, Shield Maiden or fast rider, I care not!” Éowyn stated emphatically. “She is several hours overdue and I’m worried!”

Éomer scrunched his face in thought. “Firefoot is nursing a stone bruise. Gamling, you are a better tracker than I. Do you mind hunting down our errant Lady?”

_***yesyesyeshothothotsweeeethothothot***_

“Is there no one else?” he asked dryly.

Théoden looked from brother to sister and then back to Gamling. “He is right. You are the better tracker. Go on with you. You’ll find her fast enough and, I daresay, you will blister her ears for straying too far.”

_***That’s not all I want to blister***_

Gamling pulled himself from the window. He pinched his nose in effort to stave off his headache. “Can someone tell me what her horse looks like?”

Éowyn was smiling in relief. “Yes, yes! Adenydd is a dapple grey mare. She looks dainty, but she isn’t. She has a-”

“Black, wing marking across her rump?”

_***I’m being set up. I know it! I just know-***_

Éowyn had brightened. “Yes! You’ve seen her?”

_***-know... KNEW it! I knew it! Seen her, my eye! My stallion is in love with her...**_ *

“A time or two. I’m sure I’ll recognize her. Anything else?” Getting negative head shakes, Gamling left, scowling, fuming, - 

_***...hunt down the little vixen, running me on a wild goose chase, gone off to Béma knows where, teach her a lesson she soon won’t forget...***_

\- and feeling a little predatory.

***

The door whispered shut behind the man and Théoden held his hand up to ensure silence, while they listened to the thud of Gamling’s boots die away as he walked down the hallway. As the last footfall faded away, Théoden pinned the siblings with an eagle eye.

“You two are pathetic! As obvious as the day is long! Amateurs! Both of you!”

“Uncle, I’m shocked.” Éowyn retorted airily. “Why, I have no idea-”

“No idea? Let me guess!” Théoden advanced on his niece, both surprising and shocking her with his agile grace. “You allowed Aefre a free day, a rare day off. You probably loaded her with a healthy basket of foodstuffs - enough to feed her and an angry Rider and much too much wine!” Théoden had her backed against a wall. “Tell me, was she hard to convince?”

Éowyn’s eyes darted back and forth between her uncle and her brother.

“Was. She. Hard. To-”

“Oh, you might as well tell him!” Éomer huffed. 

“I reminded her it had been some time since she truly took time to exercise her horse.”

“Éowyn, it is not wholly safe outside the city walls! It is bad enough I have a tented city of refugees that is guarded around the clock. It is not safe - to allow a lady to roam freely is inexcusable!”

“I know that!” Éowyn retorted. “I told her to stay in sight of the walls!” She fidgeted under her uncle’s glare. “She’s not been gone _*that*_ long.”

Théoden growled. It was not a pretty sound.

Éowyn fidgeted more.

“Well... well... it was his-” she flung out an accusatory finger at Éomer, “ -idea!”

“I think I’ll go check on Firefoot.” Éomer made to rise from his seat.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Théoden roared. “Sit!”

Éomer sat back down with an audible ‘plop’.

“You are a Marshal of the Riddermark and my heir! Béma forbid that such a one would stoop to such depths of childish games!” Théoden stalked a path around the table, hands behind his back. “Do you think they need that much help?”

Both siblings looked at each other, mumbling partial sentences that Théoden was able to grab bits and pieces of.

“She is a warm, caring person.”

“He is quiet and seems to be introverted at times.”

“-always a kind word-”

“-value and trust his leadership qualities and his friendship-”

“-been alone for four years-”

“-seen stallions covering mares with more romantic skills-”

“-she can be rather prickly-”

“-has been alone for some years-”

“-has a rather sharp tongue-”

 

“-is a demanding taskmaster-”

“-can be a bit... bossy-”

“-men have great respect for his-”

“-has put a serving girl or two in their place-”

“-he is-”

“Cease!” Théoden was pressing his fingertips to his forehead with his eyes tightly shut. “In essence, they are both independent, strong-willed, respected individuals who have been alone for far too long.”

Éowyn nodded in embarrassment while Éomer merely shrugged.

“Well, let’s hope Gamling doesn’t kill her when he finds her. I can’t believe you urged her to leave the walls!”

“And why not?” Éowyn retorted. “It is all right for Gamling or any of the men to exercise their animals and breathe the air, but for a woman, it is not?”

“Éowyn-”

“Aefre is a woman!” Éomer explained patiently as if to a small child. “She isn’t capable of defending hers-... OW!” The Marshal recoiled away from her, holding his arm, where his sister had punched him hard. “You are so mean to me. Uncle!” he whined peevishly to Théoden, “she _*hit*_ me! She is always mean to me! Will you beat her?”

“No.” Théoden’s upper lip had started to twitch. 

“Can I beat her?”

“You?” Éowyn screeched. “Beat me? Why I’ll knock you senseless, not that that would be difficult!”

“I can still dunk you into the horse trough!”

“No, you can’t!”

“Yes,” Éomer reiterated and he stood as if to further his point, “I can!” He glanced quickly at Théoden. “I can, can’t I?”

Théoden looked from one to the other; to the fierce Rider with his boyish charm, to his overly-serious sister. Théoden’s grin was amazingly similar to his nephew’s. “Yes, you may.” He heard Éowyn gasp in indignation. “After-” he wagged his finger, “you have dunked yourself for hatching this scheme!”

Éomer’s triumphant grin quickly dissipated. “Well that certainly took the fun out of it!” he complained, clearly disappointed at being bested.

Théoden looked at the siblings sternly. “Leave the two of them to me. Perhaps the two of you will watch and learn from a master at matchmaking!” The King rubbed his hands in glee. “It’s been a long time since I set anyone up!” he murmured.

“You?”

“You?”

“Aye me! Who do you think set your parents up? Now, out with you both!” He thumbed them in the direction of the door and moved towards the window. “I need to mull over a few things.”

While Éowyn and Éomer might have thought their uncle was contemplating the hillside of refugees, he was closely watching the lone rider, galloping off towards the west.

_***Ah, the fox has caught scent of his prey.***_


	7. 06 And the Apologetic Shall inherit the Mark

_***Damn it! DAMN IT! Foolish, stupid woman!***_

Gamling saddled Dréogan with a few quick, economical movements; the stallion cooperating for a change. He seemed over-excited, stomping and chomping at the bit to move, to hurry. 

"Aye, we're in search of your lady mare and that foolish, irresponsible witch that rides her! She won't be able to sit her horse, much less ride her when I finish with her!" He swung up into the saddle, yelling at those on foot to make way, effectively clearing the path to the front gates. 

As soon as they passed the sentinel, Gamling proceeded to search the ground for anything that would indicate which direction Aefre might have taken. The ground in front of the gate was riddled with hoof prints, showing the comings and goings of Riders in and out of the gate to the city. As he neared the bottom of the hill, the tracks spread out, became clearer. There: heavy hooves, unshod, carrying a heavy burden towards Gondor; that would be Shadowfax, carrying Gandalf and that brainless, happy-go-lucky Pippin of a Hobbit. Gamling zig-zagged, circled, looking, hard hooves here, no - deep prints, someone walking, no... not the ones... delicate, barely in the... 

Ah. Hoof prints, barely etched in the dirt, as if the mare were... 

_***...flying. She rides like the wind...***_

Dréogan appeared to agree with the Horse Lord. The chestnut stallion circled, snorting in horse-fury, before straining at the reins in the direction of where she had roamed. 

Gamling peered into the horizon, following her trail. 

She was nowhere in sight. 

He squinted, trying to force his vision further. 

Still, nowhere to be seen. 

_***If she lives, I shall kill her!***_

He pointed Dréogan in the direction of the hoof prints, leaned forward and growled a "H'yah!" The warhorse gathered himself and broke into a gallop. He allowed the steed his head, Dréogan faithfully following the single trail of light footprints, galloping thunderous foot falls for the better part of an hour. Gamling's irritability waned to concern, which boiled into rage, and dropped back to bothersome worry. He crossed a stream, grateful for the three solid prints showing she had gone straight across rather than follow along the side of the water. For another half hour, he followed the recently beaten trail, his emotions swinging from one side to the other. Dréogan did not slow, nor tire; indeed he seemed to be as anxious, ill-tempered, and as focused on his task as his rider. They climbed and topped a small rise, Gamling searching, looking... 

He felt the horse inhale, so he was not surprised at the strength and volume of the shrieking bellow that carried on the air. Gamling *was* surprised however, at the answering whinny. Without hesitation, the stallion pulled at the reins, tossing his head and calling back. For the first time in almost 40 years of hard riding, Gamling found himself hanging on for dear life, as the stallion he had raised from a colt and had personally broken and trained, dashed over a glen and through a small thicket. Coming over yet another small hill, Gamling saw a small copse of trees, a grey mare waiting demurely to the side. Dréogan knew where he was going and no mere Rider was going to tell him otherwise and gainsay him. He barreled up, coming to a crashing halt in front of the dainty mare. With unbelievable gentleness, the stallion nuzzled Adenydd, giving her a very thorough looking over. 

_***Well, I'm glad you found your quarry. Hopefully, mine will be as easy...***_

Gamling dismounted, making sure the reins were looped loosely to the pommel, giving the stallion enough maneuvering room to graze without getting entangled. He looked around, curious as to why there was no sound, no Aefre demanding why _*he*_ was out here, interrupting her solitude. There was no bird song, no wind rustling through the low grass. He started to call out for her, but had second thoughts. The fine hairs of his neck were standing on end and as he headed for the grove of trees, he quietly withdrew his sword from his scabbard. 

The area was heavily shaded, and it took a moment for the Horse Lord's eyes to adjust. He finally saw her, reclining on the ground, a large rucksack by her side. An empty wineskin lay nearby. She was leaning against a tree and appeared to be... 

Asleep. 

_***...asleep? She's asleep? Stupidstupidmagicfingersstupidwoman.in the middle of nowhere where anyone or anything could and would quietly slip in and garrote...***_

Gamling narrowed his eyes, anger at her stupidity, flaring at an incredible speed. He watched her, breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. She almost looked innocent; young even, lying in the shadows. 

_***I should teach her a lesson she won't soon forget!***_

Resheathing his sword, and grinning diabolically, he quietly unbuckled his sword belt and laying it to the ground, dropped to his knees. In silence, he crawled over the short distance to her reclining figure, straddling her. 

_***... ah, Béma, such a delectable mouth when it is not heaping abuse on my head...***_

He focused closely on his prey, covering her, leaning in closer... closer... 

...feeling the sharp blade of a knife flick against his Adam's apple... 

"Swallow, Orc. It would please me." 

Instead he pulled slightly away, only to feel her not so dainty or tiny foot, lodged firmly in his masculine parts. 

_***bleeding to death or squealing orders to Théoden's men like a girl for the rest of my days. Decisions, decisions...***_

"Aefre," he whispered hoarsely, trying not to swallow. "If I were an... Orc, you would be dead, despite your paltry weapon." Her foot lodged itself higher and her blade pressed a little further, causing his voice to rise an octave. "My mistake. Not so paltry." Her dark, glittering eyes bore holes in his azure ones for a moment before the blade was withdrawn and her foot removed from the warmth of his crotch. She laid the dirk to the side. 

"You Riders, I swear, you're all.... OOF!..." As soon as he ascertained her knife was unobtainable, Gamling grabbed her and rolled away from the knife and the tree, planting her firmly on her back and pinning her with his body. None too gently, he shoved his knee between her thighs, forcing her to straddle him and he cradled himself at their juncture. 

_***.... Béma, aah... she fits so.... sweetsweetSWEETthing...***_

Thinking ahead, he had grabbed her wrists and pinned them to both sides of her head. She was wriggling , struggling, the movement causing his still - working parts to respond in an expected manner. She opened her mouth to yell... 

"Do not do that, My Lady." 

She inhaled. 

"I will not harm you! You have my word!" 

Aefre's mouth snapped shut, but she continued to struggle, making him more uncomfortable. 

"Woman!" he gritted, "You are making it worse!" 

Aefre stopped moving and hissed, "Then release me!" 

He thrust once, hard, shoving her further into the soft dirt. "Do you have any idea how much danger you are in?" 

"From you? You said you wouldn't harm me!" 

Gamling rolled his eyes in exasperated fury. " 'Tis bad enough I'm sent to hunt down an errant child-" 

"Errant child? Éowyn bid me-" 

" 'Tis worse that I find you far from the protective sight and reach of Edoras-" 

" - to go and enjoy the afternoon -" 

"Furthermore, I find you deep in a bosky dell of trees, with a drained wineskin, sleeping-" 

"- she even packed me a generous lunch and much too much wine-" 

"-only to have you pull a knife on me!" He was roaring to be heard over her feeble protestations, "and stick your foot in my most tender parts!-" 

"-only to hear you and that gargantuan beast you call a horse, come barreling in on my solitude and-" 

"-when all I wanted to do was kiss you!" 

“-and barge in here like.... what?" 

_***Béma!***_

Gamling's voice dropped, relieved he had finally stopped her tirade. "All I wanted to do was kiss you." 

"Oh." 

_***Finally! Hothothotsweetthing with the mouth so hothothothot...***_

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Aefre raised herself up and bussed him quickly on the mouth, lips passing flatly over the corner of his mouth. "Now, will you be so kind as to let me up?" 

_***Béma, yesyesyes Sweet oh yes wait what the-***_

Gamling reared up, looking down at his apparently - pleased - with - herself - prey, still pinned beneath him. "Oh," he whispered, "that was not a kiss." 

Aefre's expectant look fell. "It wasn't?" Her eyes narrowed in consternation. "My lips met your lips. That's a kiss." 

_***Off guard, off guard... got you, you little...***_

Gamling was smiling and shaking his head. "Nay. That was most certainly not a kiss." He lowered his head, breath wafting across her cheek. "This is." 

He hovered for a second, long enough for her to gasp, before descending, canvassing- 

_***Sweetsweethothothot oh Béma soo hothot...***_

She tasted of the wine she had drunk earlier and when her tongue touched his... 

_***hothothot not supposed to be this good aaaah sweet pleaseplease oh please hothothot***_

Gamling growled, deepening the kiss. His arms went around her like whipcords, 

_*** soft ooooooh***_

...pulling her close into him. Her fingers threaded their way through his long hair, fingers... 

_***sweetsweet magicfingers oh hotfire...***_

... molding herself to him, legs caressing his. The Horse Lord's hands moved from her back to the soft, generous curve of her backside and nudging her into his- 

-feeling her inhale sharply, stiffening, and pull away - 

_***Wha...***_

Hands that had been twirling in the long locks of his hair turned loose and pressed themselves against his chest. He released her mouth in confusion. 

"Aefre?" He was amazed at how controlled he sounded. 

"Please let me go." 

He loosened his grip on her slightly. "Aefre? Are you all right?" 

"Yes... no... please, allow me up." She had the look of a cornered hart. Gamling rolled over, turning her loose - 

_***Béma's balls... so close, so very close...***_

\- and watched her scramble away, pushing herself to her feet. Both hands went to her eyes and he heard her mumble hoarsely, "I'm sorry, so sorry." before she plunged through the brush and back into the sunlit field. 

His body was screaming in frustration. 

_***She's sorry? Tell that to my-***_

Ah. It's no use. Something had scared her and he could either find out what it was or walk away. He pushed himself up and dusted off his tunic, plucking a leaf from between his shoulder armor and buckle. He peered through the brush to see her standing just at the edge, hands on her hips. She was breathing heavily and Gamling wondered what had startled her... frightened her. Making sure everything was back in place, 

_***including m'lord Not-so-Happy...***_

Gamling made much noise, and walked up behind her. 

"My Lady, I offer my apologies." 

"No, no." She barely looked over her shoulder. " 'Tis my fault." She was wringing her hands now. Gamling had never seen her look so agitated. He tentatively put his hand on her shoulders and felt a convulsing sigh. 

"I did not mean to frighten you." 

_***Liar! Yes you did mean to...***_

She was quiet for a moment before she responded. "You didn't frighten me. I frighten me." He waited for her to continue, the silence in between maddening, nerve - wracking. "It's been a long time since my husband died, and the only man to show the slightest interest in me, took my home." Beneath the loose folds of her dress, he saw her shuffling her foot nervously in the grass. "You caught me off guard, Gamling." 

Although he gloried in the feeling of victory, it angered him that she openly admitted that his ploy had succeeded. Instead of confirming that she returned his feelings, more questions had been raised. It was obvious to him that she and Éowyn had planned this cozy little tea party; and now she would play coy after arousing more than his interest?

"I caught you off guard?" He spun her around, and grabbing her chin, he forced her to look up at him. "I beg to differ with you, My Lady! 'Tis you who have led me on a wild goose chase," her jaw dropped," flattered my person at every turn -" 

"I did no such thing!" she sputtered. 

"Nay? You have a nicely turned ankle for a man," he mimicked her in a nauseatingly high - pitched voice. Both hands went to his hips and he wagged his head mockingly. "I know women who would kill for your hair and you treat it like a curtain!" 

"You are a bore, an idiot,-" 

“You tried to look at my person in the bed!" 

_***Aha! Get yourself out of that one, my lady poor pitiful me!***_

"I did NOT peek at you in the bed!" Oh, but she was indignant, and red in the face to boot. "I was joking with you, and besides," she was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her fists white knuckled and beating the air uselessly at her side, "You WERE covered up! Besides, I saw you in the bath in all your Horse Lord glory, if you will recall!" 

_***oh. That's right. I forgot...***_

With the swiftness of an experienced master tactician, Gamling quickly changed direction and tone. "Regardless, you purposely plotted with Éowyn to drag me out here, away from prying eyes. You said yourself that you have more food and wine than you would need!" 

_***Take that!***_

Her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped an octave. "You think I did this a-purpose? To get you out here to... 

"Aye, My Lady!" 

She was growling, and it was NOT a pretty sound. She jabbed her finger in his face. "You are such a man!" 

"Thank you for noticing, My Lady." 

Her finger had never left his face. "You think you know it all and you know nothing!" 

Gamling was working hard to follow her finger. "Nothing? Are you sure?" 

"Positive! I have worked hard, ensuring your room was habitable, and removing the stench, the leavings of that... that..." 

"Cretin?" 

"...that... don't interrupt me!... odoriferous creature, seeing to your comfort. Éowyn was kind enough to allow me the afternoon free. I'm sorry you were sent on a wild goose chase, but I assure you I am quite capable of taking care of myself. Éomer even checked Adenydd's hooves and shoes for me and told me-" 

"Wait!" Gamling caught her finger and held it in a firm, but gentle grip. "Éomer, the king's nephew, checked your horse himself?" 

She jerked her finger from his grasp. "There is only one Éomer that I know of and yes, he did, this morning before you pulled your lazy arse out of the bed!" She was rubbing the offended digit. "He even told me about this place!" She turned her back to him and stalked off. "I was having a lovely afternoon before you arrived. And to think, I liked you!" She moved back into the small knot of trees. 

Gamling felt as if he had been kicked in the gut. Éowyn AND Éomer plotting and planning and Aefre all unwitting? Oh, this stank worse than Grima Wormtongue's furs! 

_***dumb dumb DUMB you messed up no more magicfingers or sweetsweetsweet mouth...***_

Well, if anything, she did deserve an apology, an explanation. If the Siblings Terrible were in league, they would soon have Gamling and Aefre at each others’ throats- 

_*** You were already at her throat, dimwit!***_

He followed her into the cluster of trees and watched as she resheathed her small knife. 

_***Ridiculous woman! Armed with a knife!***_

_***... and one evilly wicked foot - very well planted...***_

"Aefre?" 

"Go away!" 

She was now angrily shoving the wineskin back in the large rucksack that lay nearby. He walked up behind her. "Aefre..." 

"Leave me a... lone!" She raked an arm across her face. 

_***You pile of Orc dung! You made her...***_

Gamling's self-loathing reached an unaccustomed high point, rivaling the feeling he had when at the wise old age of five, he had decided to show his father a thing or two and ride his big warhorse. Despite being told firmly to leave the cantankerous animal alone, Gamling climbed aboard anyway and promptly found himself flying through the air and landing on his arse at his father's feet. He couldn't remember what hurt his arse worse; landing hard on it, or after his father had beaten it. 

His pride had been fairly wounded as well. 

Another lesson his father had drummed into him was that a Rider did not make a woman cry. That was the job of Orcs and death. Mentally berating himself would become a popular pastime if he didn't at least try to offer an explanation. 

"Aefre?" 

"What part of 'go away' do you not understand?" 

He reached over her and gently removed the rucksack from her grasp. "I have made an error. At least allow me to apologize." Holding the rucksack in one hand, he extended his other to help her from the ground. 

She begrudgingly allowed him to lift her from the shaded floor. "A Rider who apologizes? I should be so blessed," she mumbled. 

_***And only I would be saddled with a woman whose mouth is more tart than the those of the whores at the brothel!***_

"It appears, My Lady," this time the honorific did not seem to be as mocking as before, "that not only do you cause me to be unusually verbal," (she snorted at that), "but that we are the victims of the machinations of the children of Éomund." 

"Their victims?" Aefre snarled. "What in all of Arda are you talking about? Éowyn has been nothing but kind to me and Éomer has -" 

" - measured the span of your hips with his hands." 

The Horse Lord was favored with the sight of her jaw hanging agape. 

_***Hmmm, must tuck that one away when I want to silence that constantly moving mouth...***_

 

“He what?" 

_***Knew it! Too good to last...***_

He cocked an eyebrow. 

"That... that... brat!" She intended to continue, but the Rider held up a leather - clad hand, palm out. 

"That brat is too old to do what he does. And when he and his sister set their minds together, they are damn near dangerous." 

Everything he had said came crashing in on Aefre's senses. "Those two are setting us up!" she hissed, ignoring his hand signal to be silent. 

_***oh, finally smart sweetsweet smart thing...***_

Deliberately, he removed his gloves and tucked them into his belt. His hand came up to her face slowly; his fingers moved, his thumbs brushing errant tears from her face, before going back to slowly stroke her lower lip. It sent chills down her spine and she tried to ignore the feeling. "Béma's Great Steed! I'm too old for these sorts of shenanigans!" 

"Ah yes, veritable ancient crone you are..." 

_***... did I just say that aloud?...***_

Anger that had been focused on Théoden's wards was now directed at him. In a strange way, he reveled in the heat of it. "Of course," he ambled on, deftly changing the subject, "if Théoden hears of their antics, he will take over, and then we will be truly doomed." 

_***... look contrite, saddened, frown more, awfulawful sad sweetsweet smart...***_

"Well, I have news for them..." 

_***Argh! The wagging finger again! Bite it! Quickly!***_

"I will choose with whom I will spend time-" 

_***Aye, you will, as long as it's with me... where did THAT come from?***_

"-I'm not some light skirt to chase or dally with!" 

_***... oh noooo, not a bit...***_

"Who do they think they are, anyway?" 

_***uhm... royal family?***_

Oh, she was in a fine huff, totally unaware of Gamling's sniggering thoughts. The finger had stopped its dance, and she was now using it to tap her lip thoughtfully. 

"I wonder what on Arda possessed them to pull such a trick as this?" 

Gamling tossed the rucksack down and then followed its path as well, settling heavily on the ground. He backed up to the tree and grabbed the bag. "They don't need a reason." He opened it and began to pull out food; huge sandwiches made with beef and spicy mustard, on crusty fresh bread... 

_***...my favorite...***_

"Aefre, are you fond of roasted beef with mustard?" 

She made a moue. "No. Not really. I was quite shocked to find it, as I told Éowyn I preferred roast fowl. She had the rucksack..." Dawning understanding slowed her speech. "Béma, have we been-" 

"- set up." Gamling finished for her. He dug through the sack, pulling out one... two... three wineskins- 

_*** I won't be able to function! Where were their brains?***_

\- and what appeared to be two small roast quail, wrapped in several linens. "You might as well sit down and enjoy the food." He thrust the fowl in her direction and after she took it, he dug through the rucksack some more, finding apples and carrots. Putting them back, he contemplated his sandwich, turning it as if to decide on the best point of attack. "I'm starving and I'm going to be awhile eating." He dusted the few errant pine cones away next to him and gestured for her to sit. Aefre made sure to be out of arm's reach as she sat down, and if she noticed Gamling's grin, she said nothing to him. They ate in comfortable silence, listening to... 

Nothing. No sound, no birds, no insects. Silence. 

"Aefre?" 

"Hmm hmmm?" 

He waited a second before continuing. "How long were you here before I ... invaded your solitude?" He watched her chew thoughtfully for a few seconds before she swallowed and wiped her bottom lip with her thumb. 

“Half an hour. Maybe a touch more." 

Gamling finished what he had decided was his sandwiches and grabbing a wineskin, pulled his knees up and sat propped against the tree, with his chin in hand, watching between trees as Dréogan and Adenydd rubbed their necks together. 

_*** So Éowyn sent me as soon as the dust had settled. She's found, she's fine. She feels manipulated, I feel manipulated, damnation, we are being manipulated, Théoden's refugees...Béma, what to do, does she want this... do I want... no... Béma, someone needs to take a census of the refugees, has anyone done that?... kiss her again, no...yes?… noooo…***_

"Gamling?" 

His response was simply to look at her and shove a wineskin at her. 

_***... not pretty, not young, not ugly... just... something...***_

"Have Éomer and Éowyn... done this before? You know... messing in the lives of otherwise completely happy people?" 

_***Ah. What has happened to my assertive, self-assured Lady?***_

"Aye." 

"Oh." 

Silence. 

"How often?" 

"Seven times." 

"Oh." 

He waited for the next obvious question. It wasn't long in coming. 

"Any... successful-" 

"All of them." 

"Béma!" 

“Don't swear!" he admonished mockingly. 

She took a long pull from the wineskin. A small drop trickled from the side of her mouth. Despite the beef and spicy sauce he had just eaten, he could still taste the lingering savor of their kiss. It took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from leaning over and licking the wayward bead from her lip. 

"What are we going to do?" 

A disdainful look crossed Gamling's face as he emptied the last of the wine from the skin. "We who?" 

Aefre grabbed the empted wineskin from his hands. "We _*we*,_ that's who! According to you, they have a perfect record. I don't know about you, but I am not looking for a husband! And I certainly don't want two younglings who know nothing of love, trying to arrange my love life!" Aefre shoved what was left of the food and wine back into the rucksack. She stood up and turned on her heel, leaving him sitting on the ground. 

He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword belt, and slinging it on. With long strides, he caught up with her as they exited the small grove. "What do you want, Aefre?" 

She scanned the horizon, eyes lingering on the not quite yet ready to set sun. "What do I want?" she stated wistfully. "What I want is... I want to be independent again. I want a way to live in my house again. I want... I want... what I want is..." 

"Yes?" 

She was squinting over the horizon. "What I want to know is, where are our horses?" 

***   
tbc   
***


	8. 07 Riderless in the Setting Sun

_***Our... what?***_

Gamling’s head jerked up and he looked around.

No Dréogan... no Adenydd...

“They can’t be far,” he stated softly. “They were just here.”

He heard her inhale through her teeth and mentally prepared himself for the onslaught. “If your stallion has done anything to my Wingfoot...”

“Believe me,” he started dryly, “if Dréogan has done anything-”

“Dréogan? You named your horse ‘Suffers’?”

Gamling reached and took the rucksack from her. “Aye. He makes me suffer!” he growled. He ignored Aefre’s choked laughter. “He was harder than Morgoth’s chains to break, is head-strong, refuses to neck rein-”

“Difficult beastie.”

“Aye.” Gamling reluctantly agreed. “Very difficult.” He inserted his thumb and middle finger into the edges of his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. 

“Just like his master,” she muttered softly.

“I heard that,” he growled back. He whistled a second time. This time, he was answered by a shrill whinny and almost immediately, both horses came over the rise and waited. Slinging the rucksack over his shoulder, he grabbed Aefre’s hand and took off towards the horses.

“I picked his sire and dam myself, was there for his conception-”

“Just Gamling?”

“-was present for his birth. Made sure he knew the touch of my hand and the sound of my voice within a day!”

“Gamling?”

“I curried him, mucked his stall, fed him from my hand-”

“Gamling!”

“- and he makes me suffer!”

“GAMLING!”

The Horse Lord suddenly met with resistance as the woman he had in tow dug in her heels and refused to budge. Her yanking backwards caused him to stumble slightly and he turned on her in ire. “Woman-”

“Either turn me loose or slow down!” she shouted. “Your legs are longer than mine and I can’t keep up!”

_***Your legs? Would love to wrap them around my neck...***_

He dropped her hand as if it had suddenly become a burning iron. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t you dare apologize!” Aefre snatched her dropped hand up and began storming towards her horse. “Every time I turn around, you’re apologizing for offending me, for misunderstanding, for dragging me through the dirt!” She stopped long enough to pull aside her riding skirt and stuck her grass-stained boot into the sunlight in order to inspect it. “Next thing I know, you’ll be apologizing for being a man,” she smirked. “Béma forbid; we can’t have that!” She turned on her heel, realizing that deep down, her feelings were hurt because he had dropped her hand, instead of slowing down. She squashed the capricious thought and made a beeline for her frolicking mare.

Gamling watched her walk off, torn between the strange feeling that he had upset her and kicking himself for not just slowing down.

_***Béma!***_

Never had he been in such a state of confusion over anything-

_***That’s not true! Women do this to me all the time...Nay! Not all the time. Just this woman!...Doomed, doomed, we are both doomed. Éomund’s brats and Théoden maybe?... doooooomed....***_

Gamling looked up from his inner musings and realized Aefre had covered quite a bit of distance. He had to hurry to catch up to her. Adenydd and Dréogan were playing; nipping and rearing; in constant motion. Aefre’s hand moved to her belt pouch and she removed a pair of supple leather riding gloves. 

“Come now, Adenydd. Stop playing with Dréogan and let’s head home.” She encased long, lean fingers into the soft hide, flexing them to ease the fit.

Adenydd nickered merrily and moved off.

Gamling snickered at the thought of her horse refusing to come to her mistress, but the grin soon faded when his well-trained warhorse did the same to him. For the following half hour, every advance the man and woman made towards the two horses, the horses pulled back, keeping a consistent distance between them and their riders. It was obvious that the four-legged animals considered it a great game - one they were winning.

“Gamling, unless they either stop or we figure a way to catch them, we will be hours walking.” Aefre wasn’t winded in the least - 

_*** Of course not! Her lungs get so much exercise bellowing at me!***_

\- but she was visibly irritated. “The sun will be setting soon and I do not relish being this far from Edoras on foot.”

“Neither do I.” Gamling noticed the horses had not moved further; they had seen the two humans stop their advance. He set the rucksack down and...

Smiling mischievously, he squatted down, opened the top and pulled out the last two apples. “My Lady, does your Wingfoot like apples or carrots?”

“Carrots.” She smiled at the Horse Lord, seeing his ploy. “This is really mean.”

“Do you wish to walk?” Handing her three long carrots, he stood up and began to toss one of the apples in the air.

“Not particularly.”

“Dréogan!” The horse stopped his play with the grey mare and was now watching His Man warily, eyeballing the constantly - in - motion apple. “There are two things in all of Arda that Dréogan loves more than anything. One is stomping Orcs into the ground and the other is,” he stopped in mid-toss and took a bite of the fruit, “apples. This one,” he held it up for inspection, “is quite good.” He addressed his agitated steed. “This is a distinctively fine apple, Dréogan! You don’t mind if I eat the last one?”

Apparently, his trusty and faithful steed did mind. With a bellow, Dréogan charged the man, bearing down at an impossible speed, stopping just short of the Rider who seemed unfazed that he had come within a hair’s breath of being run down by his own horse. As Dréogan snatched the apple from mid-air, Gamling calmly took hold of his bridle and reins. “Playtime is over, big fellow.” He handed the horse the second apple and looked over his shoulder to see Adenydd happily munching on carrots.

Aefre put her arm around her mare and was speaking softly. “Can’t resist a finely tossed mane now, can you?” She looked up and smiled - 

_***shyly? She’s shy? Strange, strange little witch...***_

\- at Horse and Horse Lord. “He’s got nice eyes too, Adenydd.” She reached out with another carrot and whispered in her horse’s ear. “His Rider is not so bad either - when he’s acting civilized!” Adenydd nickered, almost a laugh and brushed her mistress’s ear with her muzzle.

While Gamling had heard the compliment to his horse, he did not hear what she had said about him. He watched as Aefre came around and gathered Adenydd’s reins. Feeling unusually gentlemanly, he called out, “Would you like a leg u-”

And was immediately graced with the sight of a long bare leg, being thrown over the side of the mare.

_*** AAAAAAAAAH OOOOOOOOOOOOH!***_

Aefre settled into the saddle and arranged her skirts around her thighs.

_***legslegslegs long firm legs around my neck...***_

Gamling clamped down on the teenaged voice in his head and asked quietly, “You ride astride, My Lady?”

“Riding sidesaddle is for dainty, delicate women, which is something I am not! Besides,” she added blithely, “it’s a good way to get killed! Would you want to ride side-saddle?”

Gamling went to the opposite side of his horse and pulled up.

_*** I see leggings and tunics in your future, if you are going to insist on riding about...***_

With a nudge and a light jab of their heels, Riders and steeds slowly made their way towards Edoras.

***

They traveled in comfortable silence, watching the sun prepare for its descent behind them. They had crossed the stream before she broke the silence. “Just Gamling?”

He raised an eyebrow to the obvious playful tone.

“I wasn’t privy to the conversation this morning. What did Pippin do and why did Gandalf rush from Edoras with him?” 

It was not a question he expected.

_***Tell her? No? Yes? Would it... the truth shall come out soon enough...***_

Aefre watched him battle with inner thoughts. His face never changed, but if one looked closely, you could the slight clenching of his jaw, beneath his beard. Several times, he opened his mouth to speak, only to clamp it shut. “If you would rather not-”

“Nay! It is all right.” Gamling’s jaw clenched one more time. “Gandalf has one of the seeing stones. The Hobbit decided to look himself and saw the Great Eye of Sauron.”

“Poor Pippin!” Aefre moaned in sympathy for the little Halfling. “What a ghastly thing for him to see.”

Gamling shoot his head ruefully. “Aye, but the worst is that Sauron saw Pippin and thinks he has the One Ring.”

“The One Ring? It’s been found?”

_***HAH! Don’t know everything, do you, my funny little witch!***_

Quickly, Gamling told her what he knew: The Hobbits, The split Fellowship, the One Ring. Aragorn, the King of Gondor.

“Gandalf has taken Pippin to Minas Tirith, not only for safekeeping, but to prepare the way for the Ranger. He does not think the current Steward will be willing to accept Aragorn as King. When the time comes, he will have the beacons lit. Aragorn expects Rohan to answer.”

“Expects?” Aefre gritted between her teeth. “Rohan must answer! The horde at Helm’s Deep will be nothing compared to the armies of Mordor! If we combine forces with the other Nations of men, we stand a better chance of defeating Sauron!”

Gamling stared at her in the setting sunlight, grudgingly respectful in his thoughts. “Pity.”

“Pity?” She snorted. “What’s a pity?”

_***Somehow, this will come out wrong, I know it, she will take offense...***_

“You grasp things quickly. ‘Tis a pity, you were not born a man.”

Her jaw tightened; he could feel the tension, her muscles tightening. When she finally spoke, it was a dangerously soft whisper. “So, because I’m a woman, my thoughts and opinions are not as respected?”

_*** I knew it! Damn it, I knew it! Damned touchy woman!***_

“No, I didn’t say that. You grasped immediately what Éomer and I spent a great deal of time convincing the King of. I can only pray to the Valar that the men of Belfalas, Langstrand, and other countries answer as well.”

“The ‘men’ of Belfalas?”

_***uh oh. This does not bode well...Can I not say anything right?...***_

“Yes. Men. If... when,” he amended, “Gondor calls, the Rohirrim and hopefully other soldiers will answer.”

“And no women will answer?”

_***Women? Is this what this is...***_

Gamling burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. The thought of a woman... her... in armor... fighting...

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m... sorry... really, Aefre...” He tried to stop, but was finding it impossible. “You would... mess up your dress.” He doubled over, laughing harder.

“You think I would not be a worthy opponent?” Aefre’s voice was deadly soft and had Gamling not been laughing so hard from the absurdity of it all, it would have and should have worried him.

“Oh, aye, and a very worthy opponent! I’ll leave the Orc-Hobbits to you and your not-so-paltry-dirk!” He chortled at his own joke. “Or... better yet! The “men” can use you as bait! You can recline and feign sleep on the open battlefield and wait for some unsuspecting Uruk-hai to bend over you so you may shove your foot up his-” Aefre turned her back to him and trotted off in a huff. “- Oh, come now, Aefre!” He bumped Dréogan on the side and caught up with her. “Aefre! You can’t be serious!

She spun her mount around, fury very evident on her face. “You great lummox!”

_***Ah! A new name! My command of the Westron language expands daily!***_

“Does the term, ‘Shield Maiden’ mean anything to you?”

Gamling shrugged good-naturedly. “A more antiquated title that-”

“ARGH! Béma save me from being saddled with a hard - headed, old - fashioned, ale - swigging, self- absorbed-”

“Lummox!” Gamling jovially finished for her. He took in her scowl. “Aefre! Surely, you are jesting!” It was a statement, clear and thorough, not a question in the least.

“Who do you think defends these lands when the ‘men’ go off to war?”

“Aefre...”

“When Gondor’s beacons are lit and every able-bodied Horse LORD rides off,” she interrupted hotly, “who do you think defends home and hearth? The Ghosts of our Fathers? The infirm? The elderly?” Aefre was as close to hysterical as Gamling had ever seen. “I trained alongside my brother! I sparred almost daily with my husband! We fought Orcs, Mountain Men side by side! I have killed my share of invaders and not once did I faint dead away because I broke a nail! My husband trusted and respected my skill. Maybe if I had been with him, he wouldn’t have-” She stopped abruptly and snapped her mouth shut.

Gamling eased his horse next to her, facing her, and placed his hand on Adenydd’s mane, stroking the mare. “Wouldn’t have what?” he asked softly.

She glared at him.

_***furyfuryfurythefireburnssohot... how close have I come to the actual furnace? Finally?***_

“Come, Aefre. I’m going to start thinking you do not finish what you start.” Grasping Adenydd’s bridle between her ears, he pulled the two closer. Adenydd did not shy back; in fact she seemed to welcome the closeness to Gamling’s destrier. “Wouldn’t have what?”

He watched her chew on her lip for a moment. “My husband wanted a bloody boar for the Yule Feast,” she gritted between clenched teeth. “So, he, my father, and my brother went on an early morning hunt. They were ambushed by mountain men. My father and brother were killed; their mounts hacked. My husband wasn’t wearing a helmet and took a blow to the head that should have killed him instantly!” She swallowed hard. “It didn’t.” She looked away for a moment, obviously collecting and repositioning her self control, before turning and staring Gamling in the eye. “I can’t help but wonder..” She stopped and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” she finally continued. “I should not be divulging my troubles to you.”

Gamling’s hand moved up Adenydd’s neck as he nudged Dréogan closer. His leg was now pressed against her knee, and his own leather - clad hand held her own.

“Finish. You can’t help but wonder what?”

Her mouth opened once, only air escaping before finally - - - “I can’t help but wonder whether, if I had been there, the outcome would have been different.”

“What difference would you have been able to make, Aefre?” It was a simple question, not said to mock or hurt her cruelly.

This closeness to him was burning; something she was not prepared to encounter, much less deal with. She yanked her mount away from him; jerking away from him. “I would have watched his back!” With a disdainful sniff, Adenydd turned and walked off, taking her angry mistress with her.

_***Ah! Another piece of your puzzle drops in place, My Lady! She doesn’t want a husband! She wants an equal... with dangling parts!.... hothothothot oh the furnace is stoked! Dooomed, I say... we are both so doooomed... ***_

Again, he caught up with her and cut in front of her.

“You still grieve.”

“Grieve?” she spat. “What time was there for that? I had a household to run, my sister - in - law gave birth and she was totally inept at running a hall. I had to rein in staff, deal with Riders. I had people to feed, elderly to take care of. There was spring planting coming up for both households. There were still raids from Orcs and Mountain Men.” Finally, she slumped and sighed. “I grieved when I could - deep in the night, under the covers, buried under pillows when no one could hear me.” She backed up and edged around him. “I grieve his loss no more. I simply want to put my own life back together and live as I will.”

The next thought came unbidden and it shocked him in its simplicity.

_***Respect. She wants respect. And control over her destiny.***_

Deep sigh. 

_***I suppose I could give her that.***_

With a nudge, he set Dréogan on an intercept course and soon pulled along side of her. “I am sorry.” He watched her stiffen in resolution.

“You are the most apologetic Rider I have ever met.” She whispered. “Damned annoying!”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Aefre shook her head, biting off an angry retort. _‘Why in Arda does he insist on calling me that?’_ she thought to herself. “Ah,” she finally gave over. “Pay no attention to me. I’m just a silly old woman.”

Gamling heard the self- derision in her voice. “Silly? No. Old? That’s debatable.”

She stared hard at him for a moment before bursting out in laughter, immediately releasing the tension.

For several minutes, they walked in silence, each watching the other, how the other handled their horse. 

_***... she has a loose grip on the reins...***_

_***...he sits his mount well...***_

_***... at least she doesn’t bob around like a novice...***_

_***... he is almost one...***_

_***... what a Rider she would be, she is one with...***_

_***... with his...***_

_***...her...***_

_***... horse...***_

_***...horse...***_

Silence. 

Comfortable for him.

Not for her.

_***barebarebarelegs wrapped around...***_

“So,” Aefre finally spoke, interrupting his nefarious thoughts, “Your horse likes apples as much as he likes stomping Orcs? Must be fine sport, indeed!”

In the dimming sunlight, she saw a hint of a smile. “His second summer, Dréogan found a barrel of apples and ate every last one. How he managed to open his stall door is still beyond me.” Gamling shook his head at the memory. “I walked this damn horse for a day and a half, to keep him from foundering! And what was the thanks I got?” He leaned forward, talking directly to Dréogan “I got a mule-headed, taxing beast-”

“You have a steed who is loyal to you as he is to none other.”

_***True.***_

They continued on; the only sound heard was the clopping of Dréogan’s and Adenydd’s hooves. Aefre was not one for comfortable silences and she began to ask him questions, question he grudgingly answered, questions about his family, his childhood, how his fathers had served the kings of Rohan. He in turn, asked her why she had named her mare ‘Wingfoot’ and she responded by challenging him to race in the setting sun. Théoden was right - she rode like the wind and beat him soundly. He acquiesced with no lordly grace, stating clearly his steed was not only weighed down with heavy Rohirrim armor, she had also cheated-

“Cheat? Me? I never cheat! What an absolutely horrid thing to say!”

\- by taking off on HER signal. 

Eventually, she forgave him for his jokingly ungentlemanly remarks and he questioned her on her family. She regaled him with lively tales of growing up in the Wold, a loud, energetic household. She reiterated her schooling, her weaponry and riding training. Eventually, she got around to her husband; his family, his kin. Gamling slowly and methodically peeled her many layers away, exposing bits and pieces of her that she had kept hidden and protected for years. Again, she dwelt on her desire for independence, to not be a burden to anyone, as she felt like one to Éowyn. She talked about the wild beauty, yet unforgiving way of life in the Wold. Slowly, with a several well-placed questions, he pulled the conversation back to her husband. 

Who her husband was. The fact he had no siblings.

Who her husband’s parents were.

Their siblings. So very few.

The children of their siblings.

Names. Names and dates and places.

By the time they reached Edoras in full dark and guided by the lanterns lighting up the guard posts, Gamling had come to the clear conclusion that something was very wrong in Aefre’s part of the Wold.

Very wrong indeed.


	9. 08 Doomed is such a nasty word

Éomer checked Firefoot’s left rear hoof one last time before standing up. He stretched leisurely, and looked up into the rafters of the barn. Finally, he spied some cobwebs and climbing the stall door, he scooped a handful of the gooey mess. He touched Firefoot on the flank, the horse automatically lifting the hoof. Packing the cobwebs into the frog firmly, he reached for the ointment and liberally greased the hoof. “There you go.” He wiped his hands on the rag laid to the side. “This should be all you need to fix that sore foot.” He quickly cleaned up his mess and giving the stallion a small handful of alfalfa, he stepped out of the stall and-

\- immediately found himself pressed against the wall, his nose in a tight and familiar grip.

“Gambin! Howb farrb bu?”

“How could you do such a fool-hardy thing?”

“Gambin! Muh dooze-” the hand went from his nose to his throat. “Ah.” Éomer squeaked. “Good to see you in such a fine mood! And how fares the sweet Aefre?”

“Not... so... sweet,” Gamling banged Éomer against the wall, “considering I rudely interrupted her planned sojourn of solitude!”

“Gamling!” Éomer was wiggling, trying to squirm out from under the Horse Lord’s grip. “I didn’t know you knew such big words!” Éomer’s glibness found him thumped again against the wall. “Really, Gamling! This is no way to treat your future king!” he chided humorously.

“My... _thump*_... future... _*thump*_... king.. _*thump*_... wouldn’t send _*thump*_... a Lady... _*thump*_... to wander!... _*thump*_...” Gamling turned loose of Éomer and watched as the Marshal sagged at the knees. Éomer glared up at the older Captain, rubbing his throat.

“Such behavior is not respect-”

“Don’t start! Respectful behavior indeed!” Gamling was glowering, hands clenched at his side. “Of all the irresponsible, immature things to do-”

“I take it your romantic tryst didn’t work out as expected?” Éomer’s eyes were squeezed shut. Damn! The man did not know his own strength.

“Romantic tryst?” Gamling hissed. “Is that what you are calling it? You and Éowyn are damned dangerous! You should both be put back in swaddling and tied to your chairs! Did it occur to you that I’m happy alone? That Aefre is happy in her independence?”

“Are you really happy, Gamling?”

_***Ah, now there’s a question...***_

“Éomer! In less than a month, more than likely sooner, Rohan will be called to war! The chances of us returning are slim to none!” Gamling watched the words sink into Éomer’s mind.

“Don’t you want someone to return to if we do?” Éomer asked quietly.

_***... and that’s another question... ***_

“I do not need your or Éowyn’s help in securing a bed partner.”

Éomer was now propped up against the wall of the barn, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I was wondering. Eadignes has been asking about you at the brothel.” He began to inspect his nails. “I’d say the wench... misses... your attentions.”

“I’m sure you have done an excellent job reassuring her.” Gamling’s voice was low pitched and dangerous, the very timbre of it caused chills - and not the good kind - to crawl up Éomer’s spine like a spider. He realized that he had crossed the line with his old friend and mentor and his back - pedaling was almost comical to watch.

“I did not mean to offend. You have been withdrawn as of late and your friends worry.” He swallowed once. “I miss Háma, too. I know the two of you were close.”

“He kept me from killing you many times.” Gamling responded quietly.

Éomer smiled a little nervously. “I am most grateful, truly. I know he was like a brother to you.” 

_***yes, he was like a brother...***_

Gamling backed off, just a hair.

“Besides,” Éomer continued on, rambling now, “Uncle has called us off to leave you and the comely Aefre alone...”

_***...what?...***_

“...said Éowyn and I were amateurs-”

“What?”

Éomer’s smile became wicked. He had him now! “Ah yes. We have been told to step back and watch someone who knows -”

_***... doomed! We are doooooomed...***_

“ - what they are doing.” The younger Rider chuckled. “You might as well plan the binding, Gamling.” Éomer managed to duck around the otherwise occupied Horse Lord and slink towards the barn door. “Admit it, it could be worse. You like her. She likes you. There have been worse beginnings!”

Éomer fled the barn, laughing like a loon, while Gamling was left behind, banging his head against the wall.

***

Aefre sat at the table, bread, cheese, and wine before her. It had been a busy morning. To her relief, Gamling was up and out by the time she arrived in his rooms to oversee the hanging of bed curtains and tapestries. She found a few battle scenes and banners in unused rooms and tucked away in closets and had had them cleaned the day before. Willan aided her in the setting up of the wall hangings and made sure the items in the bath area were placed properly. Before she left the room, she checked to make sure everything was in order. The Captain would be easy to look after; he seemed to live a Spartan existence. What little he had was clean, well cared for. He didn’t seem to be a collector of trophies, of odds and ends. He had found a spot for everything and in a sense, Aefre was dismayed at the empty, unused space in the room.

Her assigned room was smaller and even though she had come with only a few small trunks, every iota of space was taken in her chamber. Things lovingly collected and treasured over the years. Family items, gifts from her husband...

“Are you going to squeeze the cheese through your fingers, Aefre?”

She looked up, startled, at the king, who sat down next to her, smiling indulgently. He pointed to her hand and she could see the small block of cheese being misshapen around her fingers.

“Oh dear.” She put the cheese on her platter and smiled self- consciously. “My mind was occupied, sire. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“So I see.” Théoden reached into the trencher and pulled out a small loaf of bread and some cheese as well. “You had a good ride, yesterday?”

Aefre was busy pulling apart her loaf and smearing the soft cheese onto the bread. “Yes. Adenydd badly needed the exercise.” She smiled and shrugged. “Apparently, I did as well.”

It was quiet for a moment, the sound of murmuring between people in the hall not very noticeable.

“Gamling found you easily?” Théoden asked quietly.

“Yes.” She answered tersely.

The King’s eyebrow raised slightly in amusement at her self-reliant attitude. She hadn’t changed a bit from her young years. “I hope he wasn’t too harsh or hasty in his temper?”

Visions of Gamling’s lips hovering before descending on hers, flitted through her mind. “We had an interesting... afternoon.”

Théoden didn’t know what to make of that and decided that rather than to pursue the subject, he would just make his decree and be done with it.

“We were worried about you yesterday, Aefre.” He poured himself a goblet of wine and then one for her as well. “I would ask a favor from you.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “I will not ask that you do not exercise your horse. I know you too well. The Wingfoot needs to get out, as do you. Ah! Gamling!” Théoden looked up and caught the eye of the Horse Lord. “Have a seat!” He motioned to the spot on the other side of Aefre. As the Horse Lord sat down next to her, Aefre realized that every nerve in her body was on fire, animated by the nearness of his proximity. As for that one, he was cooler than the winds of the Foradwaith, for all the awareness he showed her.

_***hothothotmagicmouthohbémapleasewrapthatmouth...***_

Gamling had straddled the bench and reaching over and across Aefre, picked up a large hard bread roll, slightly brushing her in the process. Somehow, he managed to look around her without looking at her. “Sire?” He caught her slight intake of breath.

_***Yes!***_

Théoden was not oblivious to the prickling energy being generated by the two. Ah, his niece and nephew were correct. These two just needed a nudge in the right direction. “I wanted to thank you for finding Aefre and bringing her home safely, yesterday. I am sure,” the stress on the word ‘sure’ was unquestionable, “ she thanked you as well.”

Aefre glared at her king.

Gamling saw her head whip around to Théoden in shock. Smiling snidely, he leaned back in order to cross his arms over his chest. “Aye. But she could have been a little more... grateful.”

Aefre’s heated stare was quickly fixed on him. “I was fine!” she hissed. “I did not need rescuing.”

Théoden watched the heated exchange with amusement. This was a side of Gamling rarely seen. _‘They don’t need a nudge,’_ he thought to himself. _‘They needs a cattle stick!’_

“Aefre,” he continued, bringing her attention back to him, “times are dangerous and I will not have my people unprotected.” She opened her mouth to protest, but Théoden held up a hand to cut her off. “I will not ask you to refrain from riding out. I know how dear Adenydd is to you and the care you give her is well noted. However, I do insist you do not take her out alone. In fact,” and with this, he brought his gaze to Gamling’s, “as Gamling likes to exercise his horse on a regular basis, I think it best you join him.”

“But, sire-” Aefre started.

“Aefre,” Although he smiled as he said it, Théoden’s voice was steely and brooked no argument, “it is not a request. I will not have any of my people in danger and there is strength in numbers, even if the number only happens to be two; one of my most trusted Captain’s and my most stubborn noblewoman.” He stood up from the table and looked down at his two mutinous subjects. “Say ‘Yes sire, I understand’.”

“Yes, sire. I understand.” Gamling was quick to intone. His head dipped in respect. 

“Aefre?” Her jaw was clenched in fury. “Aefre,” Théoden bent over, leaning into her ear so only she - and Gamling - could hear. “Tell me you understand. You will ride with the escort I have chosen or you’ll not ride at all.”  
“Can I not ride with any Rider who is out?”

Théoden could hear the determination in her tone. “Gamling is the only one who is consistent. Besides, I would feel much better if you were with him.” He patted her gently on the shoulder. “Do you understand?”

Her shoulders slumped in dejection. “Yes, sire.”

He patted again. “Good.” He nodded once to Gamling, not waiting for the return nod, and left the Hall.

Both woman and Rider watched as the King strode from their presence. Gamling leaned over and whispered in Aefre’s ear.

“Dooooooomed.” She could feel him smiling against the sensitive rim and she nudged him away, his beard tickling her cheek.

“I do not need this. I do not wish this,” she sputtered over her shoulder.

“Strange. I could have sworn you enjoyed kissing me back, yesterday.”

Aefre stood up with a jerk, her fists clenched tightly. “You... you... you...”

“Man?” Gamling cocked his head, with a questioning look. “Cretin?”

“Troll!”

_***ah, a new word! The list just grows and grows***_

Aefre was storming from the table, heading towards the halls, when she stumbled into Éowyn and Éomer. Words were exchanged back and forth between the two women, not unkindly, but surprise registering on Éowyn’s face, and shock registering on Éomer’s. Eventually, Éowyn smiled and Éomer looked green with nausea as Aefre finally took her leave from the two. Éowyn moved on, in a different direction, as Éomer stamped over to the older Horse Lord and sat down heavily next to him.

Gamling made no move, just continued to nonchalantly eat his bread and cheese while Éomer huffed and hemmed. Swallowing heavily and reaching for the pitcher of mead, Gamling snorted.

“Just tell me.”

“You do not want to know.”

“Tell me.”

“Believe me; you do not want to know.”

Gamling finished pouring the mead for himself and set the pitcher down with a solid thud. “You will sit there and make rude noises until you do, so please tell me and get it over with.”

Éomer rolled his eyes. “Did you know that your sweet Aefre was a Shield Maiden at one time?”

_***uh oh...***_

“She is not my-”

“Yes she is!” Éomer stuck his finger in Gamling’s face, very reminiscent of a certain female. “She’s yours and you might as well get used to it!”

“Get your finger out of my face, youngling.”

Éomer heard the warning in the Horse Lord’s voice and quickly brought his finger down. That did not stop the unyielding edge in his voice. “ Yes she is, and you have to do something to stop her!” 

_***oh nooooo... this does not bode well...***_

“I do not *have* to do anything. What has she done to irk you into behaving like a child?” Gamling didn’t look at the man; simply raised his tankard and buried his nose in as far as it would go without drowning.

“What has she done? What has she done?” The second time was louder than the first and every man - including a Ranger, Elf and Dwarf - stopped what they were doing to listen in. “Apparently, she is ‘rusty’ and invited my sister to spar with her in the afternoon when the Rohirrim Horse LORDS finish their practicing!”

Gamling’s eyes stared daggers at Éomer, but his nose and mouth never left the tankard. “She did what?” His voice echoed eerily in the depths of the mug. He was mindful that every ear in the Great Hall was listening.

“You heard me!” Éomer was damn near hysterical. “You have to stop her! She’s your problem. You have to-”

Gamling slammed the tankard on the table and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I do not have to do _*anything,*_ Éomer.” He moved to stand up and leave.

Éomer caught him by the sleeve and stood up behind him. “Gamling, I’m sorry. I don’t want to cause a scene-”

“Too late.”

“Gamling! They are ... well they’re...”

“Women?”

“Yes, yes, yes... they’re women! They...”

Éomer’s voice droned on, spiking up and down, but Gamling wasn’t paying attention. Instead, Aefre’s angry words had come back to haunt him, plaguing his thoughts, and suddenly they horribly, regrettably made sense.

“Éomer!” The nephew of the king stopped his tirade, his jaw snapping shut. “When we are called to Gondor, who will be left behind to defend these lands?”

Éomer’s eyes shifted back and forth, thinking... thinking...

“Exactly.” Gamling’s expression softened. “Let them spar. It won’t hurt. If anything, it will ease their own tension. Hopefully, they will never have to use those skills in battle.” He clapped the younger man on the shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, we will go and watch and have a fine laugh. Agreed?”

Éomer’s shoulders dropped and he chuckled. “Oh, a fine laugh indeed. Women. Fighting. With swords.” He nudged Gamling in the side and snickered in his ear. “Although I would much rather see them in their underclothes wrestling in the mud, what say you?” 

As the two stepped out of the Hall and into the sunlight of the outdoors, they didn’t see the woman standing in the shadows, linens and hangings for a certain Horse Lord’s chambers in her arms.

‘Aye,’ Aefre thought to herself, ‘you’re coming around, just fine. But we will see just how much you laugh.’

***

For two days, Éowyn and Aefre spent the latter part of the afternoon, sparring, practicing with broadswords and rapiers. The men who came around to watch thought it great fun when the two showed up in leggings and tunics. Gamling wondered if anyone, besides himself noticed that the clothing fit the women as if it had been made for them, not like a squire’s hand-me-downs. Very quickly, however, the laughter died as the two went at it. Éowyn was good, very talented; Gamling knew this for a fact, as he and Háma had been very instrumental in teaching her as a youngster. She was quick and fast and tireless.

Aefre was rusty, but she was moving back into form quickly. Her head remembered everything she had ever learned; now, she was forcing her body to catch up. She lacked the speed Éowyn had, but she had endurance. Grudgingly, Gamling had to admit that with proper training or enough practice, she would be a formidable opponent. 

On the third afternoon, Aefre brought her morningstar.

***  
tbc  
***


	10. 09 Just call me Angel of the Morningstar

*** 

Gamling thought his eyebrows would fly right off his forehead the day Aefre showed up at the practice yard with what appeared to be a spiked metal ball, attached to a handle with a chain, the dreaded... 

_*** She wields a wicked morningstar...***_

The comments from the surrounding Riders were about as rude as one could imagine. 

"Would you look at that!" a younger one commented. Abéodan was growing his first beard, sparse and not fully covering his face yet. Gamling suspected he had not been introduced to the brothel yet, but figured it would happen by the time the call from Gondor came up. "Would you want to be chained to her for the rest of your life?" 

"I don't know, Abéodan," Fyren whispered back. He was older than Gamling; had out-lived two wives. Rumor had it he had worn them out. Between the two women, he had eleven children. "A little age, a little hip span, a woman like that would be just right. Well broken in!" he leered. " She's a widow, right? I think I like this one!" 

_***I will rip your head from your shoulders if she does not beat me to it...***_

Gamling turned back to the field, focusing on Aefre. She held the morningstar's grip firmly in her right hand, showing it to Éowyn. The young Shield Maiden was both enthused at seeing a new weapon and at the same time repulsed. It was an ugly thing; made to do one thing and one thing only. 

_***In the hands of the right master, it would cleanly remove the skull of a man while he was still standing. If fast enough, the victim would watch his brains hit the ground before he did. How in all Arda did she manage to acquire such of its ilk?***_

He glared into the arena, the sun glinting cruelly over the edge of the barn. 

_***How did my sweet Aefre...***_

Gamling's eyes darted back and forth, not willing to accept what his mind had just blurted. 

_***... no no no no no no no no...***_

Éowyn now had the morningstar; was testing it, gingerly swinging it, rocking the ball back and forth. Aefre was backing up, smiling, hands up in supplication. Her words were lost in the air. 

"Béma's balls, Gamling," Éomer spat. "She's going to kill my sister! Where on earth did a woman get one of those?" The little Hobbit, Merry, stood next to him, eyes riveted on the scene before him. 

_***I'll ask her next time I have her pinned to the ground...***_

"I have no idea." 

Éowyn stopped swinging the weapon and was carefully handling it as they approached their horses. Adenydd and Héngist were tied to the far corner of the field and Gamling watched as Aefre neatly mounted her horse and held her hand out for the morningstar. She backed up, motioning to Éowyn. Grasping the weapon, she then lined up with the targets, pulling the ugly club from Éowyn’s grasp and swinging the spiked ball on its heavy chain over her head in a whistling circle, bore down on the dummies in the corner of the yard. 

All male snickering and catcalls stopped when the dummy's head exploded, straw and wood bits flying through the air. 

"Béma!" Éomer whispered. "She's..." 

Aefre pulled Adenydd up, wheeled her around and headed back the other way, the morningstar in her hand. She flipped it back and then swung it forcefully forward, decapitating the practice-dummy used by the men for sword training. 

"Good," Gamling finished for him. His eyes had narrowed and he did not let the woman out of his sight. 

_***If she makes one mistake, one error, it could be costly. She is rusty, out of practice, one wrong move...***_

Aefre carefully handed the morningstar to Éowyn, using both hands to hold the chain and jagged head close to the club. While Éowyn’s horse Héngist shied slightly, Adenydd had not been the least bit afraid of the thing. Silently, Gamling applauded whoever had trained the mare. The dapple and Aefre worked well together, communicated with movement and ... 

_*** dammit dammit dammit***_

Éowyn was swinging the heavy ball and chain clumsily, barely missing her own head. Gamling noticed Éomer had his eyes squeezed shut and was cringing, making noises, as his sister charged the next dummy. 

Its head did not explode, but it was killed just as thoroughly. 

"Morgoth's Chains!" Legolas had crept up on the other side of Gamling. Aragorn and Gimli were with him. "If I did not abhor the sight of females on the battle field, I would want those two fighting with me." 

Several more times, the two women rushed battle dummies and stacks of hay bales in the corner of the practice yard, usually Éowyn striking while Aefre cheered her, instructed her. Eventually, the two dismounted and, tying their mounts again to the far side of the yard fence, - Gamling noticing the long glance Éowyn gave the Ranger - they walked back to the center of the ring and assumed battle stances. Aefre was talking a mile a minute... 

_***she never shuts up, is never quiet...***_

... she gave the weapon to Éowyn and then held up her own shield prepared to... 

_***... block her? BLOCK HER? Béma save us all, one does not fight well on the ground with... one of them will kill the other...***_

Quickly, Gamling bent and pulled himself between the planks of the fence, striding confidently through the dirt. Éowyn’s back was to him and Aefre was paying no attention to him. Her focus was clearly on Éowyn and he could now hear her clearly. 

"... definitely has the advantage on the horse." She began to back up, raising her shield " If you see someone coming on a horse with that, you run! You can't defend yourself!" 

So intent was she on her instruction, Éowyn never saw the Horse Lord behind her. She was facing Aefre, holding the morningstar casually to her side. 

Gamling approached her quickly, silently as if on cat's paws. He knew Éowyn well, knew as well as her brother that she had a tickle spot that would bring her to her knees. He had watched Éomer too many times; Gamling had done it himself when she was younger and more apt to play, as had Háma. Approaching her, he bent suddenly and clipped her behind the knees.   
Éowyn squealed, dropping the morningstar, and fell to her knees. As she collapsed, Gamling dove around her, grabbing Aefre, and, rolled her away from the morningstar, from Éowyn. He could hear her screaming... 

_***Béma, the pitch...***_

...and pummeling on his shoulders. 

The cheers and jeers from the Riders were deafening. 

"Get her, Gamling!" 

"Show her who the Rider is!" 

"Put her in her place!" 

Gamling was disgusted, mentally taking note of each voice, each Rider he would personally make muck stalls for their impudent- 

_!CRACK!_

Impudent stars and birds and little winged Adenydds and Dréogans flew around Gamling's head. Through the haze, he saw her draw her mailed fist back again. 

He managed to pin it to the dirt, shaking his head to clear his mind. She reared back with her other hand. 

"If you hit me, I will not be responsible for my actions." he hissed angrily. Flashing copper orbs stared daggers at him. "It is not my intention to embarrass you, only to keep Éowyn from killing you!" he continued. He stood up, bringing her with him. The catcalls and jeers were getting louder and Gamling saw the fire in her eyes. Pulling her to him, his arm going around protectively, he whispered in her ear, "You are an able Shield Maiden, yet you are admittedly out of practice." 

_***... she isn't accepting this.... firefirefirehothotfire...***_

"Your men..." she hissed. 

" - will be mucking stalls for weeks." he hissed back. "I will deal with the... cretins." He threw her word at her, uncomfortable with the feel of it in his mouth, "but back down and allow me to finish." Gamling loosened his grip and turned her loose. He went to help Éowyn up. 

"Gamling?" Éowyn was a cross between angry and scared. "What did you do that for? Aefre was -" 

"There are several things one must consider with a morningstar, Éowyn." His voice rose above the catcalls and he glared at the Riders who realized a heap of less than savory chores was about to placed on their heads. He turned back to Éowyn. "Aefre is correct that this is a weapon to be used on horseback." He picked up Aefre's practice shield that lay on the ground and propped it against a nearby hay bale. Picking up the morningstar from the dirt, he tested the swing, the weight. "It is rather light," he commented to Aefre. "It was made especially for you?" She nodded once. "It is still a deadly force. A shield will not protect you long from this in any case." He approached the propped shield, hefted the morningstar's handle, swung it overhead, and with one mighty swing, shattered the shield. "On a horse, he is harder to reach, harder to come close to. However, on the ground, the wielder is vulnerable. His back is unguarded." He turned towards Aefre. "You have trained on foot with this?" 

"Of course. It was what I was attempting to explain." 

He bowed slightly, in deference. "Can you defend yourself on foot from this?" 

Aefre's grin was sardonic. "I need no help, but if Éowyn wishes..." 

"I wish it." The younger woman was quick to assert. 

"Good." He nodded to Aefre. "Put up your shield." He waited for her to comply before addressing Éowyn behind him. "When one has a chained mace and is on foot, he is vulnerable. The morningstar is difficult to aim, it is heavy and cumbersome." He turned his attention back to Aefre, who stiffened up at him. She steadied her shield and thrust her chin out, defiantly. 

_*** asking for it funny little witchy-warrior...***_

"On the ground, it is harder to control, harder to direct." He cast the morningstar once, purposely aiming slightly out of Aefre's path. She ducked anyway, shield up, eyes never leaving the spiked ball. "Notice, Éowyn, what Aefre is watching. Not me, not anything else, only the morningstar." He smirked and advanced, taking note that Aefre was backing up. " As one should, when being attacked thus. Is there anything else you notice, Éowyn?" 

He felt the butt end hilt of her short sword in his side. "Aye. You aren't watching your back." 

Dropping the morningstar, he grabbed her wrist and spun suddenly. "That's right. It's next to impossible to watch your back when you use a weapon such as this. Two people can easily gang up on someone on the ground." Gamling swooped down, picking up the cast off weapon. He started to hand it to Aefre, but then thought better of it, dropping it back in the dirt. He stepped in close. "You will want to bathe immediately, My Lady. I will see to your horse. Give me your weapons belt," he whispered. 

"I can take care of my own horse and my own weapons, Just Gamling." 

Gamling dipped his head, grinning. "Aefre. When we rolled in the dirt, you rolled through a fresh pile of horse droppings. Your back is covered. You do not smell very lady-like. I will see to Adenydd and your gear. Give me your weapons belt."   
"Fresh? How fresh?" 

"Green. And very soft." 

"Ew." Aefre wrinkled her nose. "Still, I would just as soon clean my own weapons." 

Gamling made a wry smile. "Give me your weapons belt. That's an order, Rider." 

"Hare-brained-" 

"Dullard. I know." He motioned for her belt and reluctantly, she handed it to him. 

He turned away and went to untie Adenydd from the far post. "Abéodan, Fyren, Éomer, Wrégan, attend me." Gamling watched as the two women dipped their heads together, smiling, before separating and going different ways. The four men stepped in between the boards of the fencing and made toward the tall Horse Lord. Gamling handed Aefre's morningstar to Éomer. "I know your sister is quite able, but go to her. Reinforce that this," he shook the tightly held morningstar, "is not to be toyed with. I hope she never comes in contact with any such as this. She will listen to you." Éomer smiled grimly and followed his sister into the barn. 

"As for the three of you," Gamling turned seriously on the other Riders, "I am disgusted by your attitudes." Voices lifted in protest - she was a woman, she was not a Rider - and were quickly cut off with a chop of Gamling's hand. "She is a former Shield Maiden and rode as an equal by her husband's side." That quelled two of the three voices. 

"Well, she doesn't ride by his side now, does she?" Fyren smirked. "Looks to me as if she needs a good Rider to keep her from making an idiot of herself in a practice field." 

The man found himself grabbed by the collar. "She is respected and held in high esteem by the King, who sent for her himself." 

The older man had turned red, was grasping his collar to keep from strangling. "I did not know sir, my... apologies." His eyes, however, held no such sentiment. 

Gamling thrust him away and turned his attention to the two younger Riders. "You must never forget that the women of this country are as brave as any Rider and are to be respected in their own right. To tear down their abilities and defenses is abhorrent. It is dishonorable, despicable behavior for a Rider of Rohan to behave in such a way. You will _*not*_ do it again. To aid in your memory, you-" he pointed to Abéodan, "will work as stable boy to the east wing of the barn." 

"But sir-" 

Another chop of the hand. "That means mucking, cleaning, feeding, all of it. You-" he pointed to Wrégan, "the other side." He waited for the two to bow and leave before giving his full attention to the older Rider. "As for you, it has been quite a while since the Royal Stalls were dug down to the foundations and limed." Fyren inhaled, his face reddening. Digging to the foundations was the hardest, the most backbreaking, demeaning of labor. "Make sure Snowmane and Firefoot's stalls are done thoroughly. In fact, add Dréogan, Adenydd, and Héngist's stalls to it." Fyren's mouth was turned down in an angry snarl and he started to turn away. 

"Fyren." 

The man turned back. "Yes, my lord?" 

Gamling raised a single leather clad finger. "The lady is also held with respect and high esteem by me. Do you understand?" 

Acrimonious dawning twisted the craggy features. "I forgot, you have marked her as yours. My apologies." 

"Excuse me?" 

Fyren's frown deepened. "When you carried her through the hall; you claimed her as yours. I forgot. My apologies."   
Gamling watched as the man squared his shoulders back and stalked towards the barn. 

_***...claimed her? I didn't...Béma!...***_

No one paid heed to the small Hobbit who had watched the entire show from beginning to end with such great interest. 

*** 

Aefre sank down into the tub, soaking the grime and sweat from her body. The fire was crackling in the hearth, giving her small room a cozy atmosphere. She barely had room for the brass tub, but Willan insisted she take her bath in her room, instead of the bathhouse. She sighed heavily. Willan was a sweet soul, a gentle man, not the half-wit most took him to be. She had found a ready ear and good advice from the mute - he did know how to communicate, if one was patient. He had also been a great source of comfort to her when she first arrived, trying to weave her way around servants and Riders and Grima. 

She shuddered despite the warmth. That one was a snake, a charlatan. Who knows how much damage he had caused, or would have caused more of? Several times, she had sat with Éowyn when the man had approached her, watched the young Shield Maiden. More times than Aefre cared to count, Éowyn had sat at her small table, hidden in Aefre's room, drinking mulled wine, calming her nerves after an unpleasant encounter with the man. There were times Aefre was happy that she was plain and not so slender built anymore. She drew less attention. 

Her husband had been drawn to her fire, her zest for life. 

And Gamling... 

_***...Gamling...***_

What a puzzle he presented. 

In thinking back, she realized she had opened up much more than she intended on their slow ride back from the grove. She also realized, much to her chagrin, that she _had*_ enjoyed kissing him. She caught herself fingering her lip, tracing where his tongue had... 

_***Béma! I'm too old for this!***_

She slapped her hand into the water, not only getting the liquid into her eyes, but also wetting the furs around the tub. She scowled at her carelessness, and grabbing the small bucket next to the tub, proceeded to wet her hair and wash it thoroughly. 

_***Lufian had loved her hair, said it was as beautiful as her eyes, her smile. It was habit for them to bathe together, almost a ritual. She would trim his beard; he hated it scraggly and long and kept it closely clipped to his face. She had loved his hair as much as he loved hers and she would spend time afterwards, brushing it dry in front of the fire, braiding it back in warrior braids. It was long, golden, and thick, hanging to the middle of his back. Often she had dreamt of their children having hair like his; children that never came and that she always blamed herself for not providing. He fussed about the pins she used, to hold hers up and back away from her face, out of her way. She looked forward to settling between his knees, his hands working soap through the tresses, kneading, drawing the tired ache from her shoulders..._

_...beautiful hair, Aefre..._

_... lips from somewhere caressed her neck, as fingers touched her shoulders, down her arms. The hands moved under her arms, coming around and cupping her breasts, thumbs fingering, nipples coming to life from the unexpected touch. She leaned her head over onto her shoulder giving him more access to her neck. His beard tickled her unexpectedly and she grasped hard thighs that had encased her. The hands were no longer content to graze; they grasped her more firmly and pulled her into his chest, into him. Teeth nipped; her neck, her earlobe..._

_...sweet Aefre..._

_... she turned to him, turned to claim him..._

_... only to gaze into a face with azure blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair that glinted red in the sun; that wasn't as long and never braided...***_

Aefre jerked up, forcing herself to wake from the half-sleep she found herself in. Realizing where her hands were, she snatched them from her body, splashing the furs yet again. Cursing herself under her breath, she rinsed her hair quickly, before rising from the cooling water and putting on her worn robe. 

She was dressed, brushing her hair in front of the fire when Willan knocked, returning to drain the tub and bringing a chambermaid with him. 

"Your things have been taken to the laundry, m'lady," the young girl curtsied. "They should be ready tomorrow when you need them." The girl took the towels and removed them from the room. Aefre waited for the door to shut. 

"I hit Gamling pretty hard?" she asked him quietly. 

Willan shrugged. _*Not too hard, not too soft.*_

"Is he bruising?" 

Willan stroked around the upper cheek, close to his eye, shrugged and nodded. _*A little here.*_

Running her fingers through her almost dried strands, she asked him, "Do you think he would mind if I brought him a poultice for it?" 

Strangled snorting. 

"I don't know if that's good or not." 

Willan lifted a finger, a gesture for her to wait. He left the room and ten minutes later, came back with a fresh slab of meat on a platter and a pitcher of ale, with two mugs. He handed them to her and waggled his eyebrows. 

"Willan, I want to reduce the swelling of his cheek, not seduce him!" 

Willan's look said it all. 

_*Suuuure you don't!*_

"I can't carry all of this." 

_*Yes, you can!*_ Massive oak limb arms crossed over his chest. 

She snorted in defeat. "I have to get my weapons back from him anyway. Béma forbid he should decide to keep my morningstar." She glared at the hulk of a man. "I would have to call him out!" 

Willan chuckled in his throat. 

She rearranged the platter and the pitcher in each hand, a mug hanging from the ring and pinkie finger of each hand. "Can you at least get the door for me?" 

With a magnanimous sweep of his hand, the giant mute swung her door open and ushered her into the hall. 

TBC


	11. 10 Drinkin' 'bout you

*** 

"You, my friend, are a dog!" The tall blond stood in front of the fireplace, contemplating life, the world and the depths of his ale. "You are a hard taskmaster, cruel, a right bastard even!" He looked over his shoulder at the Horse Lord his insults were being aimed at "Thank Béma I am NOT under your command!" 

"And when you grow up, youngling, you want to be just like me." The older man was sitting, studying the nasty weapon in his hand. 

The standing man snorted and turned back to the flames. "Digging down to the foundation? Fresh dirt and sawdust? Firefoot won't know what to do, Gamling!" 

"Shut up and move over, Éomer!" Gamling shifted in his chair "You are blocking the light." 

Éomer scowled and fitfully slung himself into the other chair. He raised his mug to his lips, taking a deep drink before continuing, "Fyren hates you." 

Gamling was slowly turning Aefre's morningstar, examining it closely. 

_***According to Nerian, there are 243 refugees in the tents. That includes 129 elderly, 74 children and 52 widows. They are vulnerable... A morningstar.... a damned MORNINGSTAR! Where in Arda did she get a morningstar?... Who made this for her?... It had to be...***_

"Fyren hates everyone," Gamling continued to turn the foul weapon carefully, before his eyes finally rested on her weapons belt. 

_*** A broadsword, a short sword, a variety of daggers.... Béma! The woman is a walking arsenal-***_

"Well, Fyren REALLY hates you now!" Éomer cocked an eyebrow and toasted the elder Horse Lord. "He will make your life misery, mark my words. Mucking the Royal Stalls? That makes me shudder. I haven't had to muck out a stall since-" 

Gamling finally laid the morningstar at his feet and steepled his fingers. "He will muck out the stables, or he will go home and plow his fields!" Gamling stated firmly. "Or plow his next wife, poor soul," he muttered. 

Éomer chuckled and proceeded to rifle through Aefre's weapons, which were laid out on the small table between him and Gamling. "No woman should be armored thus. Honestly, Gamling, I don't think what they said was that bad..." 

"Imagine they said it about your sister." 

Éomer nodded once. "They should die." He lifted his mug again. "But Fyren-" 

"- had been disrespectful before you arrived." Gamling was holding her small dirk - the same one she had nicked him with - and was turning it over and over idly in his hand. He made a mental note how sharp it was, how clean. In fact, all of her weapons were well kept, oiled, sharpened. 

_***She might be out of practice, but she still takes care, takes pride.... dammit dammit dammit..***_

"You know, you are going to have to return these to her." Éomer motioned to the weapons belt and the morningstar lying on the floor. "Éowyn is right fascinated with the ugly thing. I wish Aefre had not shown it to her." The king's nephew stood up and began to gather Aefre' belt and weapons together. "In fact, I'll return these and have a word with her-" 

Gamling's large, calloused hand slammed down over Éomer's. "Leave them. I'll deal with them. And her." 

"Oh? You are going to return them?" 

"No." Gamling's visage was grim. "I know Aefre. She will come to me." 

Éomer smiled mischievously, pulling his hand from under Gamling's. "Have her trained already?" 

Gamling picked the morningstar up and laid it in his lap gently. "I would not use the word 'trained' when it comes to Aefre." 

Éomer learned over, pulling Gamling's hair away from his face. "Obviously not. She got you good. Perhaps you should go to the kitchens and get a slab of meat for that. There's a freshly slaughtered cow in the smokehouse." 

Gamling pulled away from the questing fingers. "I’ll take care of it later." His fingers tightened on the rod of the weapon he held in his lap. 

"You know, I feared for your life when she pulled her fist back at you." Éomer meandered back in front of the fireplace, and Gamling shook his head ruefully. "It's unseemly a woman should fight. And with weapons!" 

_**What did you expect them to fight with? Pins and needles? Frying pans?***_

Again, the younger Horse Lord looked over his shoulder. "You must talk to her. She is giving Éowyn ideas!" 

"Éowyn had ideas before Aefre," Gamling muttered. He lay the morningstar down on the floor before standing up to stretch. "Béma, Éomer! Why did you come to my room with only one mug of ale for yourself?" 

Éomer was again scrutinizing the fire. "You've not been down to the Hall in ages. Or the brothel." Éomer raised his mug. "Let's go down together. I'm sure one of the girls would be more than happy to attend to your eye." 

"No." 

Éomer sighed and tried a different tactic. "You don't have to partake in any... carnal... pursuits. Come down for a drink, a game of cards-" 

"There is nothing there that interests me." Gamling made his way from the fire to the window, pulling back to curtain to stare over the small fire lights and lanterns of the tent city 

_***What to do...***_

"You are becoming more and more introverted in your dotage. You *know* that?" 

Gamling leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes never left the scene outside. "I tire of fleeting moments, of temporary sating, Éomer. Someday, you will too." 

Éomer's voice came hissing in his ear. "Not until I'm dead!" He inhaled to say something else, but was interrupted by someone knocking... no... kicking at the door. 

Gamling nodded to Éomer, who shrugged in acknowledgment and opened the door as it was being kicked again. Gamling's attention returned momentarily to the refugee camp. 

"Milady Aefre. " Éomer sounded surprised - and pleased. "Whatever brings your dainty slippered foot banging at this crass Horse Lord's door at this hour?" 

_***Dainty slippered foot? Let me tell you about that dainty slippered foot...***_

Gamling moved away from the window and turned towards her fully. 

Aefre looked from Horse Lord to Horse Lord. "If I am interrupting, I can come back later." She began to back out - with the ale and what appeared to be a platter of raw meat - 

_***blessblessbémablessyou***_

\- out the door. 

Gamling reached out and took the pitcher and mugs from her, keeping her from leaving. "See, Éomer, someone who knows how to bring more than enough for him or herself! Éomer was just leaving, weren't you, Éomer?" 

"I was?" Gamling glared over Aefre's bowed head. "Oh! I was!" Éomer smiled knowingly. "Yes, I was leaving." Éomer dipped his head to Aefre who, Gamling noticed with wry amusement, was looking at the King's nephew as if he was deranged. Éomer winked at the elder Horse Lord and quietly slipped out. 

For several seconds, the room was quiet, save for the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace. 

_***Glorious cascading hair hothothotsweethot***_

"I take it you wish to share a drink with me?" The sound of his own voice in the still air sounded foreign to him. 

Aefre had the good sense to blush. "Actually, no, I wish to tend to your eye, but Willan insisted I bring additional... bribery." 

"Willan is a wise man." Gamling nodded sagely before turning to the table and setting down the tankards and pitcher of ale. He picked up her weapons belt and set it on his bed. Turning, he gestured to the platter she still held. "Are you going to cook that for me or did you have other plans for it?" 

Aefre blinked. 

Twice. 

"It's for your eye." Finally, she looked up at him. "If you will sit down, I will tend to it." She stepped over and stood by his chair, expectantly. 

"Aefre, you don't have to-" 

"Would you PLEASE stop being a man and just sit down?" Aefre slammed the platter down, the slab of meat jiggling dangerously. "I can't reach you all the way up there, you over-grown behemoth!" 

_***new word new word will she ever run out?***_

She tapped her foot impatiently. 

Smirking at her ire, Gamling sat down with a heavy thud. He watched in amusement as she went to the water pitcher and poured a small amount into the bowl. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small square of linen that was tied in a knot. Carefully picking out the knot, she shook what looked like dirt into the water. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Mixing something for your eye." 

"Are you trying to blind me?" he glowered. 

Aefre scowled back at him, using her fingers to mix the water. "Suspicious man! For your information, it is willow bark, which is a pain killer, and comfrey, which will soothe the abrasion." 

_***Aye suspicious you gave me this bruise to begin with...***_

She grimaced at the dried blood and dirt on the washcloth laid to the side, and picking it up in a wad, stormed from the room. She returned a few moments later with a fresh cloth and dipped it into the tepid water. 

"I washed it already, Aefre." 

"Not to my specifications, you didn't!" she muttered hotly. She wrung the cloth out and approached the now sitting Rider with a rather murderous glint in her eye. 

"What are you so angry about, Aefre?" 

"I'm not-" 

"Or should I say *who* are you angry at? Your knuckles are white." Gamling nodded towards her hands. 

Aefre's mouth snapped shut and she loosened her hold on the wet cloth. "I'm not-" 

"If someone is going to tend to my eye, I would prefer a gentle hand." 

"But I'm not-" 

"Because, it's quite tender-" 

"Béma! Would you shut up?" He smiled rather cheekily at her. Her cheeks were flushed red, her brows drawn down. 

_***Oh is she madmadmadhothotsweethot**_

"If you do not stop grinning like a madman-" Gamling immediately put on his sternest face, reserved for errant squires and disrespectful Riders. "You are making it impossible for me to tend to your eye!" She gently raked his hair away from his face and he heard her hiss in anger. "Tell me if I hurt you." Aefre gently stroked around the abraded flesh. 

_***Owowowowowow***_

"It's fine. You are not hurting me." 

Fingers turned his face to the side, as she continued her ministrations. He heard her mumbling, swearing under her breath and he realized she could probably teach his men a thing or two about hair - curling epithets. 

_***Funny little witch OUCH pops me for swearing DAMMIT yet she-sweetsweetfinger ah-***_

Again she threaded her fingers through his hair, gently holding it back. 

His eyes opened to slits and he realized she was leaning over him and his nose was directly- 

_***Ah bliss sweet breasts of Elbereth! Béma, Remember what you said to Éomer.... I tire of fleeting... temporary sating... temporary NOTHING! Ah sweet...***_

Gamling forced himself to refocus; anything else but her- 

_***BREASTSBREASTSBREASTS***_

A dark long tendril of hair curled over her shoulder. Usually, her hair was pulled back, pinned away and braided, but tonight it was down, draping over her shoulder, glistening damp strands of ... 

_***In Théoden's rooms was a chair; an exotic chair made of dark sandalwood that the king had bought for his Queen, Elfhild. Its scent was unique, the wood rich and polished, where the queen had unconsciously rubbed the satiny wood. Even to this day, when Théoden was troubled, he would sit in this chair, deep in thought and stroke the knob of...***_

Gingerly, he reached out, his intent to wrap the moist lock around his finger. 

"I'm sorry, Just Gamling. I should not have struck you." 

_***What?***_

"Excuse me?" 

Aefre stepped back and reaching over, grabbed the steak and laid it over the side of his face. "Leave that there for a time. I said I'm sorry. I should not have hit you." 

Gamling sat up straighter, holding the steak to his face. "Yes, you should have. I tackled you; you had no idea who I was. You did the right thing. Béma, this feels strange!" 

Aefre was pouring a mug of ale and she handed it to him, "What feels strange? The steak?" 

"No. Well, yes, it does... but... you apologizing to me. That is strange and unnatural and something is most definitely wrong in the Riddermark if it is not me apologizing to you!" 

Aefre was smiling, pouring herself an ale. "Oh? And do you think I am incapable of apologizing if I have erred, Just Gamling?" 

_***damn saucy woman prissy witchy BREASTS sitting in my chair, in MY room, like you belong here...***_

"I do not see it happening often." 

Aefre laughed, again a very open, honest sound, and she raised her mug to him. "No, it does not happen often. In fact the last time I apologized was to my husband on our wedding night." 

"Your husband?" Gamling asked humorously. "Dare I ask why?" 

"I... nipped him too hard." 

_***OUCH!***_

Wince. Gamling pulled his legs together in reaction. Aefre had the audacity to laugh at his reaction. 

"No - it wasn't *that*! It was his fingertips." 

Gamling leaned back and relaxed with a sigh. "Then remind me never to put my fingers in your mouth." 

Again the air was bent with the sound of her laughter. 

"Aefre, may I ask you a question?" 

Her nose was deep in her mug. "Hmm hmmm," she waved him on, in what looked like an affirmative motion. 

"Where did you get your morningstar?" 

She froze. "Hmm?" Her voice echoed strangely in the mug. 

"Where did you get your morningstar? I would have an answer. It is unusually light, so I suspect it was made for you." He repositioned the raw meat on his face and slid around, throwing a leg over the armrest of his chair. "Who would make such a weapon for a woman and why?" 

Aefre set her mug down and with a well - practiced thumb, wiped her mouth. "My father. And because I asked it." She poured from the pitcher again and raised the mug. 

Silence while he watched her drink. She finally drained the tankard and she set it down with a convincing thud. The look she gave him was... 

_... heated..._

_***hothothotohBémahothothot...***_

"You don't believe me." 

Gamling shrugged and refocused on the fire - it was safer to stare at the flames - and raised his own half full mug. "I believe you. I just wonder why any man would give his beloved daughter something so vile." 

Aefre chuckled as she stood up and came over to him. She pulled the steak back and inspected his face. "It's still red and a little swollen. It might bruise, it might not. Leave it a little longer." She laid the raw meat back in place over his eye. "Have you ever been to The Wold, Just Gamling?" He shook his head. "I thought not. It is an unforgiving place, a mean place. Only the strong survive. My father gave me such a weapon because I was a beloved daughter. He gave me the means and instructed me on the ways to survive." She bent down and picked the morningstar up. "And survive I did." She then picked up her weapons belt from the table. "For a time, at least." She shouldered her weapons belt and smiled down at him. "I hope it doesn't bruise too badly. I am truly sorry." She turned to leave. 

"Aefre." Gamling waited for her to stop. "Do you know Fyren?" 

He watched as she shifted thoughts, searching... 

"The older Rider; the one with the dozen or so children that run amuck?" 

"Aye." Gamling stood, removing the meat and laying it back on the platter. "Stay away from him. In fact, go nowhere without an escort. He has a rather unsavory reputation and I do not wish for you to be... upset or put in an uncomfortable position." 

She smiled. "Should I hit him if he propositions me?" 

"Right in the mouth." Gamling thought for a second. "And yell. Loudly." 

Aefre chuckled quietly. "Alright. Anything else?" 

_***dammit dammit Éomer leavemetodothis...***_

"When you spar with Éowyn tomorrow, leave your morningstar in your rooms." 

This upset her. The smile slid from her face, replaced by a look of confusion. "But why? It's a..." 

"Éomer does not wish it." 

_***oh Béma just look at her just puff up...**_

"Éomer does not wish it? What do I care-" 

Gamling's hand for the second time that day covered her mouth. "Do not forget he is our future king. You do not wish to rouse his ire. He has good reasons. Leave it be." 

Aefre scowled, reared up in anger and opened her mouth... 

"That is an order... My Lady." 

Aefre did not back down. "That is twice today you have given me a direct order as if I were in your command, Gamling!" He heard the anger, the accusation. The fact that she didn't call him Just... 

"I know. I will not apologize. It is for your own protection." Gamling reached out and cupped the side of her face, caressing her cheek. "Thank you for the ale and tending of my eye." 

She stared hard at him. Then after a moment, she backed down, relaxed, closing her eyes, enjoying the contact. Finally she smiled, and turned her face in, kissing the palm of his hand. 

"Put the steak back on your eye, Gamling. Goodnight." In a blink, she was out the door, leaving him with a peculiar tingling and a familiar well - recognized throb. 

_***tingling.... Béma... you are just... needy...***_

The next morning, he rose early, the stinging in his face gone, the swelling greatly reduced. As he stood at the window, watching the sun rise over the mountains, he saw Aefre alone, stealing through the front gates of Edoras. 

***   
tbc   
***


	12. 11 Apprenticing to your affections

*** 

_***What in Arda?...***_

Gamling watched in fury as Aefre calmly picked her way around chickens and birds on the ground, her arms laden with two linen covered baskets. 

_***I told her... Béma! The KING told her not to leave the gates... what is she doing?...***_

Grabbing his leggings, he thrust both legs in at once, only to trip and fall over himself. Growling angrily, he threw on his tunic, falling again as he grabbed his boots, and pushed both feet in them without stockings. Slamming the door to his chambers open, he ran headlong into Éomer. 

"Good morrow, Gamling!" the Marshal put his hands out and steadied the older Horse Lord. "I was coming to get you for breakfast, however, considering the thumping and noise coming from your room, I thought perhaps you were enjoying yourself with a comely wench!" He stepped back and tried to look over Gamling's shoulder. "So, who is she, the wondrous woman who has pulled you from your doldrums?" 

"Éomer-" 

"Was it Aefre? Did you manage to put her in her place?" Éomer continued to attempt to peer around the haphazardly dressed Rider, Gamling irritably stepping and shifting to keep the king's nephew from peering in. 

"Éomer-" 

"Did she put up a fuss? Was she- _*Stop*_ getting in my way!... don't tell me you killed her with your over- exuberant pent-up attentions?" Éomer finally stopped bouncing and backed up. "Ooh! She's shy!" Apparently thinking he had finally managed to shoe the Mearas, Éomer settled his hands on his hips. "Shy? Why would she be shy about such things at both of your advanced ages?"   
Éomer, son of Éomund, was immediately presented with Gamling's back as the Horse Lord stomped away, punctuating each footfall with a curse. Éomer shrugged helplessly at the chambermaid, who was looking at him in horror. "Was it something I said?" 

Gamling made his way through the city, aiming straight for the gates. Wise people moved aside, wondering what had upset the normally reserved Horse Lord this early in the morning. He growled at the two gate guards who attempted to bid him good morning and paid no attention to the angry pair of eyes that watched him from the royal stables. 

_***Where would she be goingstupidstupidwoman going basket early morning...***_

He snapped his fingers and growled out loud. "The Tent Village!" Gamling found a worn path between the rocks and made his way to the makeshift dwellings. 

_*** They look more rag-tag up close than at a distance...Béma! How desperate are these people? ***_

He spied a filthy, skinny urchin, aged about ten summers, playing in the dust. "Boy!" he commanded sternly. Blank, empty blue eyes looked up at him. It shocked him how one so small could be so desolate. "A woman... a lady," he corrected himself, "came through here a few minutes ago from Edoras. She was carrying bas-" 

"Lady Aefre." 

Gamling nodded, saddened by the forsaken tone of voice in one so young. "Yes. Lady Aefre. Where did she go?" 

The youngster pointed to a tattered covering. "Garberend's widow. She's been ill." His attention returned to the haphazard lines he had drawn in the dirt. 

"Thank you." Gamling whispered. The child acknowledged him with a noncommittal grunt. Slowly, the Horse Lord made his way over to the frayed cloth, soft voices murmuring within. 

"You're a gift from the Valar, you are." 

"No, I'm not. I'm just-" 

"No, no, my lady." There was the sound of rustling. "We'd starve if it weren't for you." More rustling. 

"What is the word in Edoras, my lady?" A different, younger voice. "We hear talk of war." 

He recognized Aefre's heavy sigh. "Aye. There will be war. Théoden King awaits a summons from Gondor." 

"Then 'tis not a rumor." The younger voice stated hotly. "If they want land, give it to them! How many more of our men, our children, must die-" 

"It's not about land, Aerlene!" Aefre answered the woman sharply. "This is an evil - doer from an ancient age - a minion of Melkor. It's about total domination. This is a war brewing since before our great grandsires time!" Her voice gentled. "We will all die if we don't fight. There will be nothing left for our children. There will be no Rohan, no Gondor, no Middle Earth." 

There was a stifled sob. "My lady, I am afraid to go home. My mother was brought here from Helm's Deep and she is too ill to be moved. I can't leave her here. The last I saw of our home, it was in flames. I have nothing to go back to. I can't rebuild by myself. Does the king even *care* that we are here? This is not an existence I thought I would have to endure." 

There was an eerie silence. 

"I know the king cares. I'm sure he has someone he trusts working on this problem as we speak." 

_***Béma! I've been consulting the wrong person!***_

Gamling came around towards the front of the tent, just in time to see Aefre back out. "There is enough willow bark to last you a few days, but I'll be back before then. Aerlene, don't give up hope." She backed out completely and turned only to run headlong into the unmoving, tall Rider, fruit falling from her basket. 

Out of sheer instinct, Gamling grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her, holding her at arm's length. 

"Gamling!" she gasped. "What are you doing here?" 

Gamling bent over and began to pick up the dropped items. "I followed you to ask you that very question, My Lady!" he retorted. "As I recall, not only did the King order you not to leave the city walls without me-" 

"He did no such thing! He told me to not go riding about without you!" she interrupted in outrage. 

_*** She's defying me... ME! She is... Béma, the woman is....***_

"I myself told you not to wander freely without an escort!" 

"I... well... I..." 

_***Speechless! Yes! Yes! Finally! Who's the Rider? Tell me Who IS the Rider...***_

"Yes, My Lady? I am waiting." 

Aefre rolled her eyes. "Fyren is in the stables. I saw him when I left. No one in their right mind would accost me in broad dayli... oof!" 

At the word 'accost', Gamling grabbed her, pulling her up against him, causing her to drop her basket, fruit again spilling over the ground. In a proprietary manner, he enfolded her, holding her against him. Ignoring her gasp of outrage, he pulled her tighter and whispered in her ear, "Do you think anyone would step in to rescue you here? You are not among civilized folk, you... OUCH!" Aefre found herself abruptly turned loose, as Gamling stepped back, clutching his shin, eyes searching for the person who had attacked him. 

The grubby waif who had earlier told him where to find Aefre was standing not too far off, his grubby hand in a fist. 

"You will not harm Lady Aefre," the child stated firmly. 

"I wasn't going to-" 

"You will not harm Lady Aefre!" he repeated. A medium-sized rock materialized in the palm of the child's hand. "Do you understand?" 

The youngster was too far away for him to- 

_***Béma! That hurts! Where did one so young get such a deadly aim?"***_

\- grab, disarm, and beat some respect into him. Gamling looked at Aefre. 

_***Oh yes! Laugh it up as it wasn't your leg he hit with a rock!***_

Aefre was having a very difficult time keeping a straight face. "I do believe," she started mirthfully and nodded towards the child, "that I have a worthy, brave escort, Just Gamling." 

The rock was being tossed in a rhythmic manner and the adolescent was cannily eyeing Gamling's leg, measuring the distance. 

"Yesyesyes you do! Will you please call him off?" 

Aefre rolled her eyes and putting her arm around the Rider, she called to the boy, "It's all right, Bawdewyne. This is Gamling, a high-ranking Captain of the Mark. He was making a point and meant no harm." 

"You are sure?" The child studied the Horse Lord dubiously. "He looks... seedy to me." 

_***Seedy? Seedy? You need a bath and a firm hand across your backside...***_

Aefre finally laughed which brought the heads of many out of their tents. "It's all right, Bawdewyne, I swear it. Behind this scowling visage-" 

_***...don't you dare, don't you dare say I'm gentle or tender or...***_

"-nice and caring-" 

_***...dammit! Béma, can I kill her, please? It will be quick and merciful...***_  
"-man." 

_***...DAMMIT!***_

The adolescent still looked skeptical. "Are you sure? He isn't even properly dressed!" Bawdewyne pointed with his chin. "I'll bet his leggings aren't even decently laced!" 

_***... well, now that you mention it, it is a bit breezy in the southern part of the Riddermark...scowl dammit... grrrrr...***_

"Gamling!" Aefre elbowed the Horse Lord. "Stop glaring at the child! You'll frighten the wee thing." 

_*** wee thing? I'll frighten his wee thing all right! Imp!...***_

"Gamling! Now would be good!" 

Gamling jerked his attention to the woman still holding him around the waist. "Lady Aefre," he began tersely, "you disobeyed a direct command from not only from me-" 

"Commanded by you? I am not a Rider in your entourage! How dare you-" 

Gamling raised his voice over hers. "You also disobeyed an order given to you directly by Théoden King!" 

Aefre turned him loose and attempted to go nose to nose with the tall Rider. "I believe we already discussed this! The King stated that I should exercise my horse-" 

"Béma! Be quiet!" 

Aefre's mouth snapped shut. 

_***Well. That was certainly fast and worked rather well! I must try again...***_

"Due to the fact," Gamling began quietly, "that most of the guards are watching those here on the hillside, certain... activities..." he nailed Aefre with a steely gaze, "have been curtailed. As you well know, the King is concerned for the safety of all of his subjects and he asks that the women do not wander about," his finger went up to shush her pending outburst, "without an escort. I saw you from my window, hence my lack of proper attire. I was concerned." 

"Oh." It was a soft exhale. "Well, that was certainly-" 

"Don't say nice or sweet." 

"-thoughtful. You really didn't need to worry." Again her arm stole around him. 

_***nicenicehotsweetsweetmagicfingerssweet...***_

"And you may call off your pint-sized escort!" 

She smirked and turned him loose. Motioning to Bawdewyne, she began picking up the fruit and returning it to the basket. "Bawdewyne, would you take the rest of this to your grandmother? Please tell her to wash the fruit. There is also a tin of comfrey for her cut. Tell her I will check it tomorrow." She smiled at the child and sent him on his way. With a soft 'follow me', she guided the half-dressed Rider around and away from the refugee camp. Eventually, the rustling and sounds of the outcasts faded away. She motioned to a grassy knoll and the two sat down in the shade of the city walls. Gamling looked over the nearby hill, and saw mounds of simbelmynë... 

"Sad place." 

"Beautiful place." She corrected gently. "Quiet. I come here sometimes to collect my thoughts. It's the only bastion of privacy I can find." The wind was a bit cool, still early in the morning and unconsciously he moved closer, to block her from it. 

"Are there that many taking up your time?" 

She smiled slightly at that. "Typical Rider. Never spent much time below stairs, have you? Or in the kitchens? 'Lady Aefre, should we wash the linens today? There is a strong wind.' 'Lady Aefre, do these apples look like they are going bad?' 'Lady Aefre, the King wants roast chicken for dinner, but we still have too much hart and it is likely to spoil.' ' Lady Aefre-'..." 

"I get your point." Gamling had to laugh. She made it sound so... so... 

_***busy life...and hectic...***_

For a few minutes, they stared off together, enjoying the view, the tranquility. 

_*** quiet... silence... who would have thought she was capable of such?***_

Fingers at his brow. 

"Admiring your handiwork?" 

"Which part?" she questioned cheekily. "Admiring the fact that I managed to hit you at all, or admiring my handiwork in keeping it from swelling your eye shut?" She pulled her hand away and sliding her knees up, she propped an elbow on them, and cupped her chin in the palm of her hand. 

"Aefre. You have the most interesting look on your face." He scooted closer to her, his arm around her and his hand placed behind her. "Have I done something to amuse you?" 

If she was aware the she was now protectively sheltered under his arm, she made no mention of it. "Besides the thought of you barging around Edoras and into the refugee camp barely dressed?" Aefre chuckled dryly. "I am willing to bet the entire Hall is questioning the sanity of Théoden King's most trusted advisor. I'll even wager," she poked him good - naturedly in the ribs, "that you didn't even put stockings on your feet when you thrust them into your boots!" 

Gamling's toes curled painfully in his boots and he knew he would have blisters if he didn't remedy the situation soon. "What are you willing to wager?" 

Aefre began to nervously fidget with the ties on her bodice. "Are you saying you *are* wearing stockings?" 

_***bluff... bluff... you can...***_

"No. You're correct. I saw you sneaking out-" 

"Sneaking? How dare you? I did no such thing! I've been doing this every morning since returning from Helm's Deep!" 

" - and I was concerned as you disregarded my request-" 

"Your command!" 

"-from last evening." He smirked at her. "You will be happy to know, I tripped over myself twice, creating such an uproar that Éomer speculated that I was rutting with three well-oiled whores-" 

"You beast!" Aefre was laughing out loud, leaning against his arm. "You lie!" 

"You're right again. I do lie." He made a very sorrowful face. "I lie a lot." He began to inspect the nails on the hand not resting behind her. "The truth is he thought I was sporting with you!" Aefre's jaw flapped in indignation. "You are blushing, My Lady." 

"You're... you're... lying..." 

"No, it's true. Your cheeks are quite the lovely shade of pink." 

Aefre smacked him on the chest. "Not that! What Éomer thought! You are lying!" 

"No, I swear it!" Gamling put his hand up in supplication. " This time it is the truth, I swear it. I ran headlong into him coming out of my chambers. You should have seen him bouncing about like a rabbit, trying to peer over my shoulder." Finally, he smiled at the memory. "I think he was most disappointed," he admitted with a whisper in her ear. 

Aefre's cheeks were burning and she hissed, "That boy has too much free time on his hands!" 

"That he does." Gamling looked out at the mounds of simbelmynë and across the mountains, where the sun had begun to clear the peaks, bathing the valley in an orange glow. 

"Just Gamling?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Does the King even know about the refugees?" 

Gamling let the air in his lungs expel fully before answering. "Aye. He does. He worries, he is at such a loss. I have racked my brain for a week, trying to figure out a solution. Why do they stay?" 

"Because," Aefre moved up against him again, molding herself to his side, "they have nowhere to go. Their homes are destroyed, they have no menfolk, no Riders to protect them or aid them. Many of the children are orphaned." 

_***Haleth! Béma, what kind of friend am I? Where is he?***_

"With the talk of war, they are afraid to return. Why? What is the point?" 

"Aye, what is the point?" he echoed. "Aefre, I promise I'll find a way to get them off the hill and into some suitable shelter before war." Realizing the time, he pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. "Two questions, My Lady." Aefre nodded, dusting grass and loose dirt from her skirts. "A friend of mine was killed in the Warg attack on the journey to Helm's Deep. His son has survived, but I haven't seen him since our return." 

She looked up from her ministrations. "What is his name?" 

"Haleth. Haleth, son of Háma. He has about twelve summers." 

Aefre dusted grass from Gamling's side. "I'll look into it. Second question?" 

Gamling took a second before asking. "Bawdewyne. Who is he and what happened to his family?" 

Aefre took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from him. "Bawdewyne's mother died when he was quite young. His father was blacksmith in a village to the west of Edoras. They were by all reports, very close. He was killed at Helm's Deep." 

"Hmm." 

"Hmm what?" she asked suspiciously. 

"Cynn, the blacksmith and farrier here in Edoras lost his apprentice at Helm's Deep. Do you think the boy would be-" 

"Would be?" Aefre was simply exuberant. "It doesn't matter! It would get him off the hill! It would be a start! Food. A warm bed." 

Gamling was pulling his fingers through his hair roughly. "Don't say anything. Let me ask Cynn." He might not want such a young child for an apprentice. Aefre," he hushed her, "Not. A. Word." 

She shrugged. "If you insist. Hopefully, you'll know soon." 

"Today or tomorrow." 

Impulsively, she reached out to him, pushed his hair from his eyes. "I like your face, Just Gamling. You have an honest countenance." 

The smile in his eyes far outshone the one on his face. He took her hand, fingertips playing with fingertips. "Oh? Do I-" 

"HEY!" A familiar voice rang from above on the ramparts of the city. "Are you two going to kiss or what?" 

Gamling didn't turn loose of Aefre, instead he pulled her close against him and made a rude gesture to Éomer, standing above with a few grinning Riders. He could feel her shaking with laughter. 

"That... that..." 

"Cretin? Lummox?" 

A bright, sunny smile peered up from the general location of his chest. "Make me a promise?" 

"Gamling! Couldn't you find somewhere more romantic than the graveyard, for Béma’s sake?" 

"Does it involve Éomer's death?" 

Aefre was having a horrific time keeping her laughter under control. "After the war, we set him up with the most horrid of females." 

"A dumpy, shrewish, domineering, ugly princess?" Aefre nodded enthusiastically. "Lady Aefre! My Lady! You are evil!" Gamling admonished sternly. "So we are in this together?" 

"Oh yes. You-" 

"HEY! Are you two going to stand there all day? Come on! Kiss her already!" 

Aefre felt his fingers thread through the loose tendrils of her hair. "Should we appease him?" Gamling whispered in her ear. 

Aefre disentangled herself from his grasp. "No." she shook her head, ruefully, but he caught a glimpse of a smirk. "I'll not kiss you just to appease someone." 

"Oh?" 

For the second time that morning, she poked him in the ribs. "No. I'll kiss you because I want to." She left him there, standing on the hill. She had gotten about ten steps before turning around walking backwards. "You might want to go in and get dressed. Put on some stockings before you get blisters." She laughed jovially before turning back around and- 

_***Woman! You could break something, swinging hips that way! HothothotohsweeeeeetElbereth...***_

"Is that it? Béma! Gamling! Whatever happened to the-" 

Gamling made another rude gesture up to the ramparts and tuned the aggravating Horse Lord out. Trying very hard not to limp, he followed behind in the wake of a pair of hips that intrigued him to no end. 

*** 

Before going into the Great Hall, Gamling stopped by the blacksmith to make sure Dréogan was properly shod and to make the inquiry he promised Aefre. 

"A boy about ten summers?" Cynn rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know, Gamling. That's mighty young." 

"His father was a blacksmith. I suspect he knows his way around a smithy." 

"Hmm. Still. Young." Cynn tapped on the last shoe, making sure it was secure. 

"You'll have an apprentice for a long time." 

"Underfoot." 

"Energetic." 

The blacksmith looked up from Dréogan's rear hoof. "You are determined." Gamling shrugged. "Oh, all right. Bring him down in the morning. I'll work his arse off." 

"Thank you." Gamling turned and started to leave. 

"Will this impress her enough?" The blacksmith was smirking. 

_***Béma! What is it with everyone trying to-***_

"It will get a hungry child off of the hillside."   
The blacksmith wisely waited until the reticent Horse Lord left the smithy. "Aye." He nodded to himself. "This should get him in her bed." 

*** 

After getting dressed, Gamling made his way to the kitchens to see if anything was left over. Munching on a thickly buttered slice of bread, he deftly palmed an apple for his mount. He tossed it over his head, only to watch it snatched from the air by the meaty hand of Willan. 

"Béma! Willan!" Gamling made to snatch the apple from the giant only for him to playfully hold it over his head. "If I were a lesser Rider, you would frighten me!" He held his hand out, palm up. "Hand it over." 

With a grin, Willan dropped the apple into the offered palm. "I need you to do something - wait - two things." 

Willan stood back expectantly and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"First, there is a filthy urchin on the hill; his name is Bawdewyne. Father was a blacksmith, killed at Helm's Deep. Find him, feed him, bathe him, feed him again and take him to Cynn, the farrier." Willan nodded. "Second, early in the mornings, Aefre takes food and medicines for the people on the side of the hill outside of the city walls. Accompany her." Willan nodded. "Don't let her tell you no." Willan nodded. "Don't let her slip off." Willan nodded. "Don't' let her-" Willan's' hand covered Gamling's mouth and he made a comical face before turning and shuffling off. Gamling watched the man until he left the kitchen. "You could have let me finish," he mumbled before shaking his head and heading for the Great Hall. 

Early morning found Gamling again, watching over the city, a self - satisfied smirk on his face at the sight of Willan following Aefre, the man's arms laden with foodstuffs. Gamling turned away, finished his morning ablutions and made his way to the Great Hall. 

As he and several others spoke with Théoden, the Ranger burst into the Great Hall. 

"The Beacons are lit! The Beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!" 

***   
tbc   
***


	13. 12 - The Birds and the Bees and the Educated Fleas

*** 

Things moved very quickly once Théoden announced that Rohan would answer Gondor's summons and began to issue orders. Éomer and Gamling spent scant minutes with heads together, planning, tracing their routes. Éomer decided to take the Westemnet, while Gamling would take the more arduous route of the Eastemnet, searching out the more nomadic Riders. Gamling sent word down to the stables to have Dréogan saddled and bridled within the half hour. He headed to his chambers - 

_***Dréogan readied...need provisions, gear, travel light and swift. Tack, maybe get Aefre to bring my war gear Dréogan's heavy armor and my...***_

It dawned on him as he mounted the stairs that he was depending on Aefre doing - 

_*** dammit!***_

As he strode into his chambers, he found her there, bustling about, stacking clothing, weapons, armor... his armor, chain mail, on the bed. She barely acknowledged his entrance. 

"Good! You're here. Where are your saddle bags?" She didn't allow him to answer. "Are you taking the East or Westemnet?" 

"East-" 

"You need to travel light, don't weigh Dréogan down with armor or yourself with heavy weaponry. You have the furthest to travel. Luckily, you'll have fewer Orcs and Mountain men to worry about - just have to find those dratted nomads! You'll need to travel light." She moved quickly, separating stacks of clothing, armor. "I've sent Willan to the kitchens to pack provisions; dried meat, bread, maybe some cheese. Definitely apples. And water. You'll need water. Tell me where Dréogan's war armor is kept; I'll make sure it gets to Dunharrow. Willan is procuring a wagon and we will leave for the camp after lunch. I'll have your gear, everything, so you need not..." she found herself caught in his embrace, held tight, "... worry." 

"I won't worry. You are in charge, My Lady." 

Aefre looked up and realized she was lost... lost in a sea of cerulean... no air... why couldn't she breathe? 

"Well... I'll make sure your weapons are cleaned, sharpened." She was talking slower, seemed to be unsure... "Your tent will be up... you'll want a..." 

"Yes?" 

The thought... the thought... where did it go? 

"You'll want a good night's sleep when you reach..." 

"Aefre?" 

"... the ... the... yes?" 

"I trust you. You'll have everything ready for me when I arrive in two days." 

She nodded blankly, echoing. "Two days. Yes. It will be taken care of." 

Abruptly, he turned her loose. For a few minutes, they worked silently, side by side, hands crossing , brushing. Willan showed up, two large rucksacks of food materializing on Gamling's side of the pile, along with several skins of water. She watched as he carefully packed each and every piece in two saddlebags, then belted on his sword. 

"You have everything you need, Aefre?" He didn't look up. 

Aefre kept her own head down and nodded. Hoisting his bags over his shoulder, he headed towards the door. 

"Be careful... Just Gamling." 

Gamling didn't know if it was the softness of her voice or the caring tone, but he stopped in his tracks. Éomer was standing in the door with his mouth open as if to say something. Gamling shoved his saddlebags at the future king, shoving him backwards in the process. Slamming the door in his face, he turned to see Aefre sigh deeply and then her breath catch with a stifled sob. In great strides, he moved across the room, pulling the leather glove from one of his hands. "Aefre?" Gently, he took her by the chin, forcing tear - filled eyes to look at him. 

"Just Gamling. You'll- -" 

"Be quiet. Don't cry." 

Aefre tried to smile. "Is that an order?" 

The question struck him strangely. "An order? No. A request." He pulled her close, one arm behind her, the other cradling the back of her head. He was focused... on... 

"Inhale." 

His mouth came crashing down, forcing almost roughly, teeth nipping before she could protest. It was brutal, it was crushing, it was... 

Her hands went into his hair, thumbs gently skirting the rims of his ears, holding him to her as she battled back. He pulled his mouth from hers roughly and pressed his forehead to hers. 

"I'll apologize when I reach Dunharrow." 

Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned and throwing the door open, left her standing in the middle of his room. 

Éomer was leaning against the wall, out of the way, and wordlessly handed Gamling his saddlebags. Nodding his thanks, Gamling took and shouldered them. He started to move off. 

"Old man." Gamling stopped and turned. "She's a good woman. She's worth fighting for, worth coming back for." 

Gamling couldn't even smirk. He simply nodded and walked off. 

Dréogan was agitated; no one could saddle him, but Gamling. Finally, he was geared and ready. Gamling pulled up and as he rode from the stable, he looked up towards his window, hoping, praying, 

_***please please be there, Aefre...***_

and saw her standing. 

Watching. 

*** 

She observed, waited until he was out of the front gates, gazed until his horse was nothing but a speck on the horizon. Taking a steadying breath, she turned back to the bed, biting back tears. She was in a hurry to finish packing Just Gamling's things. After all, she was in a hurry; she had her own things to pack. 

*** 

Two weary days later, Gamling rode into the camp at Dunharrow. He was directed up the high mountain, to his tent. Despite his exhaustion, he insisted on rubbing Dréogan down, weighing out his oats, making sure of the cleanliness and freshness of the warhorse's water. He gave him the last of the apples, whispered grateful thanks in the stallion's ear. He found a seat, was joined by Éomer and together the two shared stew, hot, bitter caffe and compared numbers of Riders. 

"It's too few." Gamling whispered, watching the goings on in the camp. "Too few have answered. Less than half of what Théoden expected." 

"I know. I had hoped to find more when I arrived." Éomer was subdued, his joking nature shoved beneath the surface. Gone was the prankster, the happy-go-lucky, young man. Instead, in his place was the serious Rider, capable Horse Lord, a man fit to - 

_*** Lead a legion of Riders... command an army... rule a country...***_

They lamented the lack of Riders, joked over the Hobbit's desire to fight, his lack of stature. They didn't see Éowyn’s displeasure, her restlessness. 

And when the Ranger, Elf and Dwarf left suddenly, quietly without explanation, traveling into the Dimholt, Gamling knew they were all going to die. 

*** 

Gamling stood in the flap and took in the small tent assigned to him. Aefre flitted back and forth; smoothing furs, making sure the brazier was properly vented. Despite the wind and the night chill outside, the inside of the tent was warm, cozy even. It was obvious she had taken a great deal of time and pride in making sure of his comfort. He recognized the furs and bedding from his own room and it looked as if some of hers as well. 

"Aefre. Did you keep any bedding for yourself?" 

She did not look up from the brazier. "I'm fine." Her voice was very subdued and she seemed to have a hard time looking at him. It was a cowed, submissive response and he found that he did not like it coming from her. 

"Aefre." 

She stood up quickly, dusting coal from her hands. "You have a long ride starting in the morning. You will need your rest." 

Gamling stared at the rugs, looking where her eyes had focused, but for the life of him, he could not see what was so damned interesting, what held her attention. What he had just witnessed outside bothered him deeply and despite his training, his many years riding the Mark and fighting Orcs, he was greatly disturbed. 

A chance like this would never happen again. 

"Aefre." His voice was wrung out like water from a mop, pained and tired. "The Ranger has left. He has deserted us." 

Her head shot up, eyes disbelieving. "What?" Her hands clenched, the knuckles turning white. "He can't have left. The people have followed him, relied on him. Théoden trusts him." 

Gamling could not bear to look at her. He closed his eyes in fury. "Aye. The Ranger, the Elf and the Dwarf." 

"All three?" She grabbed his hands, her calloused fingers snaking into his palms. "They just ... rode out of camp?" 

His head jerked in frustration. "Oh, no. Nothing as straightforward as that." He gripped her fingers, entrapping them in his hands. "They went through the Dimholt, to the Dwimorberg." 

Silence. 

He didn't expect silence - not from her. He expected... denial, tears, screeching. 

Wait. She inhaled. 

He steeled himself for the outcry, the howl of repudiation. 

It didn't come. 

"The Ranger? Aragorn? Went to the Dwimorberg?" Her eyes had lit up, joy totally encompassing. " That's wonderful!" 

Gamling's eyes shot open in disbelief. "Wonderful? That mountain is cursed! No one who goes in comes out. It is guarded by the dead." 

"NO! Do you not know the truth of the Dwimorberg?" 

"It is guarded by the dead. Only the dead may pass." 

Aefre was bouncing. "Gamling, don't you see? He is the King of Gondor! He can command them!" 

Was she insane? Command ghosts? Who could command ghosts? 

Apparently, Aefre could see the disbelief in his eyes. Gently, she pulled her hands from his, to caress his cheek. "Ah, love. Don't you know about the ghosts of the Dwimorberg?" 

Gamling shrugged, burying his face in the warmth of her hands. His own came up, to hold them there. "What is there to know, Aefre? It is a wicked, cursed mountain, guarded and lorded over by the ghosts of wicked, cursed men. Cowards." 

"Yes, yes, yes! Cursed by Isildur, the King of Gondor. Only the King of Gondor can release them. Aragorn, the Ranger, commands them! They must fight!" 

The weight of her words sunk like stone into his belly. "Who could withstand or kill a dead army?" 

Her voice was like wind through the trees. 

"No one." 

It was little relief, but it did not matter because before he could utter another sound, she released his face and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. 

_***not another chance like this one, sweet saucy, sweet sweet...***_

His arms slid around her shoulders, pressing her to him, holding her close... 

_***warm, so warm, sweet sweet thing, soft, sweet...***_

He dipped his head, brushed his nose through her hair... 

_***Bémasweetfingersmagicsweetsweetthingsaucysmellso...***_

"...sweet thing..." 

He stiffened. 

Did he just say that out loud? 

"What did you say?" 

Aefre was looking up, confusion in her dark eyes. 

No. Not confusion. 

Longing. 

He tucked a finger under her chin, lifting it slightly. Leisurely, his thumb stroked her bottom lip, the callous of his thumb sending sparks across her mouth. He leaned over closer, his voice a bare whisper. 

"Stay." 

His mouth replaced his thumb, sweetly teasing, nipping. If Aefre was surprised at the gentleness of this giant of a man, she did not let on, simply melted into his embrace. He grunted once, when their noses bumped awkwardly, but somehow, they managed. 

_***sweetsweetsweetsweet...aah...***_

He tasted like the bitter caffe he had drunk earlier with Éomer and she decided she liked the taste and couldn't get enough. Reluctantly, they came up for air. His hands cupped her face, lips canvassing over her forehead. 

"Are you sure?" She sounded winded, breathless and Gamling felt a slight tug of satisfaction that he had done that to her. He flicked the tip of his nose over hers, lips hovering. 

"Stay." 

This time, when his mouth covered hers, it was not the sweetness of honey; it was sheer heat, possessive. His hands snaked down her arms, underneath and around her waist, and cupping the curve of her backside, he pulled her close, into him. 

He felt her stiffen, her hands going to his shoulders and she pulled away. 

"Aefre? Do you want this?" He slid his hands up her back, bracing her. 

"Yes." Nervously, she plucked at the lint, the stray leaf or speck of dust on his tunic. "Of course, I want this." 

Strange woman. What game was this? "Surely you are not frightened of me?" he teased. 

That brought a smile to her face. "No, you goose! I am not frightened of you." Her smile faded slightly and she... blushed. "Please, can we turn down the fires? The lanterns?" 

_***Aaaaaaaah. So she is shy.***_

He pulled her close again, his nose trailing a path down the loose tendril of her hair, to her ear. "But I wish to see you." 

"There isn't much to see." 

"I don't believe you." He nipped her ear, causing her to gasp. Before she could protest, he licked it, soothing the small hurt. Her hands tightened on his tunic as she burrowed in and he nuzzled her neck. 

Giggling. 

Damn! The woman was giggling? 

Aefre had hunched her shoulders and was attempting to tunnel further into his embrace. 

"Gamling! Please." Her voice was muffled by his armor. "People will hear!" 

_***Hmm. Shy and self-conscious!***_

He pulled back, grabbing her by the elbows. Giving her a mock scowl, he growled, "Turn off the lights, people will hear. One would think you are afraid of letting your hair down!"   
"Nay! Not afraid of letting my hair down!" She playfully scowled back. "I simply do not wish to have knowing glances in the morning from those who listened to us rut like younglings this evening!" 

Gently, his lips canvassed her forehead, her eyelids, before whispering in her ear, "Aefre. Tomorrow, we ride to battle. Many will not come home to Rohan. I suspect many men are doing what you and I do tonight - finding solace in the arms of one they love. I doubt they will pay much heed to the sounds of two such decrepit old people!" 

"DECREPIT?" The cut got just the reaction he hoped for and as she stepped back in indignation, he casually unhooked his cloak. "OLD? I'll show you-" Gamling slung his cloak over the small table and moved to grab her, only for her to step out of his reach. "You wretched, boorish dolt; you-" 

"Do tell everyone." His hands went to the fastening of his gauntlets; they clanged as they hit the floor. 

Aefre's mouth snapped shut and her eyes shot daggers. 

_***spicysaucythingthingthing***_

She continued to back up until her heel caught the bedding. She began to edge around the side. 

Gamling's chest plate came up and over his head and as he leaned over to set it down, he blew out the lantern in that corner. He crooked his fingers at her. 

_***Come here.***_

She playfully shook her head no, tossing her overdress to the side and blowing out the lantern in her corner... 

Sidestepping, he made his way towards the front flap, tying it so it would not fly open in the wind. Leather shoulder braces dropped in the floor and the rest of his riding armor followed. He toed off his boots, before blowing out that corner's lantern, leaving one small light in the furthest corner from the bedding. 

She started to step towards it. 

"Nay." It stopped her in her tracks. "I wish to see you." 

"But-" 

With speed she would not have believed had she not seen it, Gamling rushed across the tent, tackling her to the bedding and pinning her beneath him. He slid comfortably next to her, cocooning her by throwing a leg over her. Propping himself on one elbow, he used his free hand to pluck at the laces of her bodice. 

"I wish to see you." 

Aefre turned as much as she could to face him and began to pull at the fastenings of his own tunic. "I don't know why. I suspect I'm no different from any other woman." 

He crushed her to him, causing her hands to fall flat on his chest. His nose raked through her hair, before finding her ear. "Nay." It was a heady whisper and his breath caused to her shiver slightly. "You smell better." 

Which was true. Others he had been with, whores, serving wenches mostly, had smelled of food and kitchen smells, fireplaces and sweat. Aefre smelled of flowers and rain, of air and sweet... 

_***...things..***._

She wiggled around, managing to put some space between the two of them. Again, her hands found the lacings of his tunic. "I do bathe on a regular basis, Just Gamling." 

_***Thank Béma for small miracles***_

His mouth found hers again and it was decided by both that some battles were not truly fought to be won or lost. His hand slid down her back, finding the curve of her backside. As the top of his tunic loosened, her fingers finding bare skin, he pulled her into him, grinding, leaving no doubt the exact nature of his interest. 

She pulled his tunic open, baring him to the air, to her. Her fingers followed, found puckered scars, traced ridges of long forgotten injuries, flickered over flat male discs, that when caressed, sent shooting sparks... 

Gamling inhaled sharply and grabbed her hands, folding them in between them. 

Brown eyes, filled with confusion... 

"Did I hurt you?" 

"No! I... no one has..." 

Dawning replaced confusion. 

"Ah." Aefre smiled. "No one has ever touched you back?" 

Glaring from his side of the furs. "I am not inexperienced..." 

"I didn't say or think you were." Aefre had the gall to smirk knowingly. "However, I am not going to just hang on for dear life, nor will I brace myself to be ridden like Mearas." She kissed and flicked her tongue in the grooves of his hands. "Sometimes, I like to bite-" she nipped the fleshy sides of his hands. "-just to get your attention. Passion should be both ways, with both partners giving equally." She pulled her hands from his and pulled his tunic back apart. Fingers found their way tracing scars yet again. "Will you allow me to give to you?" 

"Do I have a choice?" It was a strangled whisper and Gamling couldn't understand why for the life of him, he couldn't get much more sound out. 

Her mouth replaced her fingers. 

Lights exploded behind his eyes. He was pulling on her skirts, drawing them up, exposing long legs. 

_***longlonglonglegsaroundmyneck***_

Lightly, calloused fingers stroked the soft flesh of her thighs, causing her to shiver and sigh. Screaming need filled his head, as he grasped her by the knee and pulled it between his legs, high up... 

_***too many clothes...so hot in here...***_

Aefre helped him shrug out of his tunic, neither of them knowing exactly where it was slung. Her hands were everywhere, over wide shoulders, sinewy arms, hewn by many years of military and equine training. Her touch was like air and ice and fire and oh, Béma, don't let it stop. 

He rolled her flat onto her back, sliding comfortably between her legs. The urge to undo the ties on his leggings and just pull her skirts up was beyond overwhelming... 

_***No! She's not a serving wench to dally with...***_

Her hands slid down his back, finding, tracing the many ridges, scars, muscles, rock hard... her knees rising, legs stroking his outer thighs... 

_***too fast... too fast...***_

"Aefre... wait..." 

Down in the shadow of his embrace, glittering pools of want stared back. Her eyes were black, the pupils dilated to such width that the irises were a thin band. Her hands went to the waistband of his leggings. "No. Can't wait..." 

Gamling grabbed the frantic digits, his body wanting one thing and him willing another, and brought them to his mouth. "You must or you will find no satisfaction this night." Disentangling her legs, he slid down, his waist seating himself at her juncture and bringing his face down to hers. Again, they battled for nothing, save for heat searching heat. Eventually, his mouth slid to her ear, his tongue flicking the edge of the rim. 

Again, she giggled and shuddered again slightly. 

"Why-" 

"Your beard!" she gasped, sensing his question. "It tickles!" 

_Ah..._

His lips found her neck, and he nipped it. "I'm not shaving it." 

"Oh, noooo. Wouldn't ask." 

Her fingers wove through his long locks and despite his warning, her hips began to move against him. 

_***too... many... clothes...***_

With a groan, he reared up, settling on his knees. Aefre's mouth was swollen, her cheek reddened by the scratching of his beard that she said tickled her. The removal of contact gave her access to the lacings of his leggings and her hands immediately returned to the task he had set her back from. Shaking his head, he again removed her hands from his clothing and using them as leverage, pulled her up to her knees. As she scrambled up, he pulled her skirts free from being pinned by her legs. With amazing speed, he finished undoing the lacings of her bodice and immediately moved to the side lacings. Several times, he had to stop to remove her hands from his clothing; she was apparently as eager to see him as he was to see her. When he finally had enough, he placed her hands on his shoulders, which only gave her incentive to play with his ears. 

"Aefre," his voice was hoarse, "please..." He inhaled sharply through his teeth, when while distracted, she moved one hand to his waist and the other to his groin, kneading, stroking the length of him through his leggings. Being pushed to one's extremes in this way was delightful, but this was too much, too fast. Grabbing her hands again, he nudged her knees together and straddled her, bringing her between his legs and close to the heat of his body. The last lacing of her corseted bodice fell from its mooring and he pulled it over her head, vaguely hearing it hit the rug on the floor. Her hands skirted down his back and clutched the curve of his backside as she lifted up, attempting to undulate against him. 

He smiled against her mouth. "Never give up, do you?" he murmured before taking possession of that sweet cavern again. 

"I am Rohirrim," she whispered back. Her fingers found the waistband of his leggings and she pressed her fingertips between the material and skin. 

He had to smile at her admitted tenacity. Groaning as her fingers slid in lower, his hands found the rounded edging of the final layer of clothing and encountered the final tie that stood between him and her skin. Pulling it, the ribbon came undone easily and as it loosened, he pulled the neck open and down over her shoulders. His fingers hovered, as if not knowing where to touch, before finally threading into her hair. He found the clasp that held the heavy mass from her face and undoing it, flung it as well in the direction of her other discarded clothing, carelessly listening to it bounce and ricochet. Pulling away slightly, he fanned her hair over her shoulders, reveling in the silkiness of it. He watched it fall through his fingers, like a cascade of water, illusive in form. 

Her lips found his throat, and he arched, allowing her access to the tender spot at his Adam's apple. She nipped it twice, causing him to hiss and drop her hair. His hands fell, descending over her shoulder, down to the heavy curve of her breast. 

Her mouth abandoned its pleasurable trickle down his neck and she leaned against him, pushing into his hand. His thumb slowly encircled the tip of her breast, before finally brushing across the nipple, causing it to awaken and harden. 

Her hands had ultimately breached the waist of his leggings and her palms met nothing but heated flesh. 

He was teasing her, teasing the hard bud... 

"What do you want, Aefre?" he whispered in her ear. 

At first, there was no sound but her breathing, labored, heavy. Eventually, in a waft of air coming from his chest.... 

"More. Touch me." 

Gamling grabbed the top of her shift, pulling the neckline as far open as it would go, before yanking it down and over her arms, causing her to pull her hands from his backside and pinning her elbows to her side. Both breasts sprang free, large, heavy... 

_***sweetsweetperkyfitinmymouth...***_

His mouth, nose made a hot, burning trail from her ear, down her shoulder... 

_***smellapplesapplesapples***_

... finding the insistent nipple. He licked at it, agitating the engorged disc and the pebbling areola around it. Aefre was finally whimpering; she had managed to pull her arms from the sleeves of her underdress and wrapping her arms around his head, pulled him into her. 

His hand found her other breast and teased it in a similar fashion. 

Her groans became louder. 

_***...so much for no one hearing us...***_

_***do you really care? Sweetsweetaefre...***_

Gamling's teeth scraped, lovingly irritating her nipple. Sweetly, he closed his mouth around it, laving his tongue over the aroused nipple. 

She began to undulate against him, her hips moving, searching, and grinding against him. His free hand moved down her back, cupping her bottom, and held her against him. 

She was humming nonsense, no tune or melody, deep in her throat. Words escaped and he vaguely heard... 

"Harder. Suck harder." 

_***... your wish....***_

Gamling obliged, clamping down on the peak and pulling it into his mouth, he pressed her further into him. His body was screaming, begging for completion, but he was determined that this would last longer than a few well-seated thrusts. Her moving against him and now very vocal groaning was making him harder than he had been in ages. 

"I... have... two, you... know." 

Gamling released her breast and felt it slide from his mouth as he smiled in raucous glee. He rolled the other nipple between his thumb and finger, teasing it to that state of painful pleasure. "Is it jealous?" he whispered against her skin. 

Her eyes were glittering, slitted to thin gashes of bronze fire. "Yessss." 

His hands switched places; the one that had held her up against him now replacing his mouth, as the other moved downward. Instead of cleaving her to him, he found the bottom of her garment and pulling it up and over, rendered her naked to him. 

_***...sweetsweetsweetlushcurvesofelbereth...***_

The moment her last protective scrap of clothing was sacrificed to the gods of skin... 

The voice that never stopped in Gamling's head, became mercifully silent. 

***   
tbc   
***


	14. 13 - In Praise of Older Men

Théoden stood at the top of the hillside, looking over the tents, the camps of the assembled Riders. 'Too few,' Gamling's voice echoed in his head. 'Too few have come.' As usual, his reticent Marshal had nailed the situation dead on. And now with the Ranger gone, with his small entourage...

Who would have believed so many had rested so much hope on the shoulders of one ragged man?

The Rohirrim were a superstitious lot. Watching Aragorn ride into the narrow chasm had unnerved them all. Even Gamling had paled. Théoden glanced over at the Horse Lord's tent, all of the lights dimmed, save one. He had attempted earlier to go to him, to explain that if the Shards of Narsil held true, the only undefeatable army in Arda would be at the Ranger's command. However, standing at the flap, he heard the murmur of two voices, Gamling's and Aefre's; and Théoden decided perhaps a softer touch would be appreciated. 

For a moment, he regretted plotting to bring his long - time Rider and friend - yes, friend, Gamling was that - someone to stand at his side, when they were going into a desperate war, and he could be killed. Then, there would be two who mourned: himself and the bereaved Aefre.

_~-What will be, will be. I pray to Béma, he returns to her.~-_

He watched as the speck that was Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, rode off into the distance. Although Théoden himself had offered the Elf his own tent, the Peredhil had declined, claiming pressing needs, concerns elsewhere.

_~-Run. Run and leave us. Go to your Undying Lands where-~-_

Théoden bit the thought off. It was wrong, rude. Elrond had sent a contingent of Elves to Helm's Deep, archers who came to their aid, when no one else would have answered. And they had died, every last one of them, giving the entrapped Riders precious time for Éomer to arrive. No, Elrond Peredhil was not running away.

Théoden shook his head. Perhaps again, the Elves had come to Man's rescue. If that sword given to the Ranger was truly the reported Sword of Elendil...

He looked over the tents again, and again; too few. Each Rider knew there were not enough men and like him, were disheartened, discouraged, knowing full well they were riding into certain death.

Unless Aragorn...

Bah! Again, what will be, will be. Tonight, Théoden decided, he felt old. Truly old. He watched a young Rider, barely bearded, wrap his arm around a not much older girl and lead her off, probably to his tent. He imagined if he took a walk, his would probably hear sighs and sounds of the One Last Time. Hearing giggling behind him, he turned to see Éomer, both arms wrapped around the waists of two buxom wenches, whispering first in one ear and then the other. Mentally, he made a note, to talk to Gamling. Éomer would make a fine king, once he was settled. He had a good head on his shoulders and he would need a strong Marshal and advisor to guide him.

_'Béma, I miss Elfhild. I miss my wife._

The thought came suddenly out of nowhere. His hand clenched, unconsciously reaching for the knob of a chair that sat back in his chambers in Edoras. She would have given him good advice, would have held him this night, been a source of-

"Sire?"

Théoden looked down at the woman before him. She was his age, snow- white hair braided back, framing a still youthful face.

"Yes?"

She smiled and in the dimming light, he saw her eyes shine. "I have made hot tea for you in your tent and brought stew. It is still hot."

"Thank you." She nodded her head and turned to leave. "Wait." She stopped and turned back. "I'll know the name of the one who served me when she herself has every right to be in bed."

The woman smiled and lowered her head. "My name is Eldrida."

Théoden looked at her closer. "I knew an Eldrida, long ago. In my youth..." He pulled her into the torchlight and peered closer. "I know you." Gently, he took her hands in one of his and with the other, tilted her chin up. "I remember you well. You came to the celebration that proclaimed me and several others Riders. Your brother was one."

The woman blushed harder. "I'm surprised you remember me, sire. It has been a very long time."

"Eldrida. A true Rider never forgets his first love." By now, she was smiling as well as blushing. "Ah, I remember that smile well." He pulled her closer and he whispered in her ear. "As I recall, it charmed me right out of my boots."

Eldrida smacked him playfully for that. "As I recall, you charmed me just as thoroughly."

For a moment, the two basked in a fond memory. Théoden released her chin and patted her hand. "What happened?" he asked softly. "I went on patrol. When I came back, you were gone. It took me forever to find word of you and when I did, I discovered you were married."

Eldrida's smiled drooped, just a little. "You were to be King and I am a simple Rider's daughter from the East. A farmer's daughter. I was not meant to be Queen."

"That would not have mattered to me."

Her hand covered his. "It mattered to me. I was not well versed in the handling of a huge hall, servants and a garrison of Horse Lords. You loved your wife, did you not?"

Foreheads touched and both sets of hands were clasped between them. "Aye. I loved her very much."

"Then I am glad. My Eadwin gave me five strong sons and two beautiful daughters." She moved back and nodded over the mountainside. "All five sons, both son-in-laws and eight grandsons are down there. I pray they come home safely."

"Your husband-"

"Died three years ago. I have grieved. It was a good marriage and well I remember our time together." She nodded back towards Théoden's tent. "Your stew is getting cold."

Théoden was reluctant to turn her loose. "Is there possibly enough for two?"

Eldrida's grin became bigger, her eyes crinkling at the edges. "There might be."

"Ah." Théoden smiled knowingly. "I believe I might have a skin of particularly fine-"

"Wine." she answered before him. "I believe that is the same line you used the first time you talked me into your chambers."

Théoden tipped his head back and forth, a motion reminiscent of Théodred and Éomer. "Well, it worked once before..."

"And it will work again, you randy old stallion!"

Théoden winked at her. "Want to see if I should be put out to pasture?"

The upper camp echoed with Eldrida's laughter.

~-

There was no sound in the tent. For about ten seconds.

"Gamling," Aefre whispered, "Stop looking at me like a starving man looks at a banquet table." 

"You have no idea..."

"Gamling-"

"Shh." He kissed her once, before trailing to her ear. "I'm starving." He painstakingly took his time, making his way down her neck. 

"I'm not... not...a ... meal... you...."

"You are the small course and the sweets."

Aefre's senses were reeling and her hands reached back to his leggings, unlacing and loosening. "And what are you, Just Gamling?"

The Horse Lord had kissed his way back to her breast and he pulled away from her hands. "I'm the main course." Playfully he rose up, looking down at her. "Which one was jealous?" His thumb pestered the nipple he had been nibbling on earlier. He lifted above her, corralling her back into the furs. 

"You horrid man," she sighed. "The one you're ignoring."

"Ah." He lowered his mouth and licked gently. "This one?"

"Yes...ah..." Gamling's mouth clamped down, his tongue tugged gently. Aefre's fingers wound through his hair, holding him in place. As he eventually settled between her legs, he continued to tease, suck at her, listening to her when she whispered calls and instructions.

_.... harder.... just a little..._

Eventually, Gamling turned Aefre loose, kissing his way beneath the heavy mound. She had begun to undulate again, writhing as she tried to maneuver her way down under him. He cupped her beneath a firm cheek, coaxing one leg up to his waist. "And where do you think you are going?" he admonished softly.

"I'm going to get rid of your leggings."

"No." He shook his head. "Not yet." He began to kiss his way down her stomach, causing her to giggle.

"Why ... not? 'Tis unfair.... Gamling!" she squealed as he nipped her waist. "What are you doing?"

"Enjoying my small course." He continued downwards, until his nose was hovering above her damp nest of curls. He burrowed down, his hands stroking down and beneath her legs, bringing them over his shoulders. Her fingers found their way threading through his hair, as he found and kissed the soft skin at the joint at her juncture. "You smell like apples."

"I don't think I... ah..." Her fingers dug almost painfully into the roots of his hair, when he nipped her at that tender spot inside her thighs. "...Béma..." 

Gamling continued to kiss, suckle actually, at that sensitive spot as his fingers stroked their way around the soft skin of her hip and leg. Finally, they found their way to that sweetsweethotwetspot, dancing, lightly stroking...

"Gamling oh please please don't tease..." Aefre had begun to angle, thrusting upwards in an attempt to... 

"Are you begging?" Gamling asked. He gasped when he realized her hands were still in his hair and she pulled in frustration. 

"Damn you! Damn you!...you...you..." 

It crossed his mind to tease her -

_...Brute..._

_...Lummox..._

But truth was, at this point, he didn't have the heart for it. He nipped her again, as his fingers slid between soft, wet folds. "Tell me what you want, Aefre."   
He whispered against her skin. She mumbled incoherently. Gamling propped himself up on one hand, the other continuing to bedevil her. "I'm sorry. I didn't understand..." 

"Touch me!" she hissed, "Kiss me, lick me, I don't care! Get out of your leggings-"

"Ah... not yet." he whispered back. His index and middle fingers cut a deliberate path through her entrance. Calloused tips lingered at her passage and again he licked and nibbled at the inner joint of her thigh. 

"Again, Aefre. What do you want?" 

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her ragged breathing. Then- 

"You. I want you. Please." 

At the word 'please', Gamling thrust both fingers into her core, stroking upwards. His thumb moved over her nub.

"Other side, other side, to the left.... aaah Béma.... yessssss." Aefre released his head, her hands clutching the furs beside her, knuckles white.

For one long minute, fingers and hips danced, one asking, the other answering. Aefre's breathing shortened, became more ragged. The skin at her inner thigh was pink from his attentions and he kissed it one last time, reveling in the feel of her pulse there under his tongue.

"Aefre?"

Her response was a low keening wail. 

"Do you want more?" 

"Yesyesyesyesohyespleasebémayesplease-" 

He replaced his thumb with his mouth. 

Aefre jerked hard, tightening her legs around Gamling's neck, her hands back in his hair, guiding him- 

"There... there..." It was a hiss. "Ah... yessssss..." 

For a few moments, he allowed her to lead, to guide, to set the pace, two fingers still encased high within, probing, pressed forward, upward. She tightened her grip, fingers and legs, cutting off what little air Gamling was able to-" 

"Ah, thinth yew can turn looth now, Aefref..." he whispered against her. "Pleath. Ah wohn thtop."

"Promise?" It was a sigh, a plea. 

"Yeth. Promith." He breathed a sigh of relief as her hands turned loose of his hair and her legs relaxed slightly. He watched with great interest as her hands moved slowly up her body as he continued the rhythm she had set. 

It was a dance of sorts, he decided, the coordinated movement of his mouth and fingers against the gentle thrust of her hips. At some point, she began to answer the questioning of his fingers, vocally, vaguely aware she was calling him by name, begging, pleading, for release. She moved harder against his mouth, his fingers pressing down. 

Eventually, his free hand left the silky softness of her stomach and moved upwards, replacing her own hand at her breast, calloused pads at her nipple. Aefre was beyond any point of return, every nerve ending was on fire, begging for more. 

Her movements became more insistent against his fingers and thumb and when his mouth replaced his thumb, her entire body sang. 

_~-how long.... how longhowlong has it been oh Béma since you allowed yourself to believe any man...~-_

Eventually, his hand had replaced hers and she gave in - gave in to the sensation of skin on skin; gave in to her impending orgasm not brought on by her own hands; gave in to the realization that for the first time in several years, she was not in control... 

This 'Rider' literally held her in the cup of his hand, at the tip of his - oh sweet Elbereth, his entire tongue, who in all Arda would believe the quiet Horse Lord could be so aaaaaah-dept with... oooooh..... 

"Don't stop."

Her body had a mind of its own and she was close sooo close... 

"Harder, harder, please don't.... oh... Béma... don't..." 

Gamling's mouth enclosed over her completely, his tongue insistent, sucking her in, while his fingers matched, obeyed her commands. And when finally, she reached the bridge, the chasm, and completely lost all control of her body, she let him know exactly how wonderful he was. 

~- 

Aefre lay twitching beneath him, her legs sliding limply from his shoulders. Gamling looked up, took in the sheen of perspiration that coated her entire body. He allowed his fingers to slide from her body. As he lifted up, he started to wipe her juices from his mouth before realizing his two fingers were in worse shape. With a self-satisfied smirk, he put both in his mouth, savoring her taste before wiping his lips. Crawling to the edge of the furs, Gamling pulled his leggings off, his own body now screaming 'sinkinsinkinsinkin'. Instead, he crawled between her legs, between her thighs and staying on his knees, began to caress her sides and hips, watching her breathing settle. Finally, he leaned over her, careful to keep a slight space between his body and hers and nuzzled her at the dip in her throat, sucking the salty sweet sweat from her body. "When I told you the camp would not bother with the sounds of two people making love tonight?"

"Yesssss?"

"That," he murmured against her throat, "was before I knew what a screamer you were." He chuckled at her half-hearted attempts to smack him and rubbed against her suggestively.

"You... you... oaf... you... bore... at least let me... catch my... breath.."

"What?" he hissed back against her skin. "And give you respite?" Her fingers dug painfully into his hair. "Oh, all right, Aefre. I'll give you a minute." She turned loose and moved her hands down to grasp him. Gamling inhaled sharply at her touch, her thumb deftly weaving through the foreskin.

For all her knowledge, her experience with her husband, Aefre was in a sense, shocked when the Horse Lord dropped his head on her shoulder, his breath in a hitch.

_.~-if you do not slow down, you will get no satisfaction this night...~-_

Aefre removed her hand, and in a gesture identical to what the Rider in her arms had just done, licked the salty moisture from her thumb. Running her fingers around the outer shell of his ear, she whispered, "I really need some wine. Would you like some?"

 

"You stopped," he sighed. "It was so sooo nice..."

"It will be nice again." She patted him reassuringly. "You did promise me a minute to catch my breath. Please let me up." Reluctantly, Gamling rolled over, allowing her to escape. "Besides," she continued as she rose from their bed, "I figure you would like to wash the taste of me from your mouth."

"I need no such thing, but if you insist, I'll take it anyway," he grumbled, grateful for her offer regardless. He pulled a dark hair that did not match his beard from the side of his mouth, before flicking it away. The remaining light was quickly dimming, but he still watched her, not too covertly, enjoying the...

_~-Not thin... not fat... just soft and round and curving and pleasing and oooooh Béma...~-_

...set of her, her span, hips that fit-

"What?" Aefre stood before him, goblet in her hand. 

"Looking at you."

She stretched out her hand. "There was only enough left for one. You take it." He sat up, and taking the goblet from her, drank deeply, savoring the sweet, earthy coolness. While he drank, she climbed back on the bedding, behind him and pressed herself to him, caressing, kissing, stroking his shoulders. He felt her knees slide around his hips. "I know I'm not perfect, but I hope I'm not all that repulsive."

_~-Kiss my neck kiss my neck pleasepleaseplease kiss my.... ooooooh thank you...~-_

"Not in the least." Gamling was not regaining control of his almost out - of - control body and he handed the goblet back. "You have the rest. You were the one who wanted it."

Aefre took the goblet and swirling it once, took a sip. She was looking at him most...

Saucily?

_~- uh oh~-_

Holding the cup in one hand, Aefre crawled around him. She straddled him, resting on his thighs. "We must do something about this rather rigid staff you're waving about." Gently, she covered his mouth with hers, the two of them savoring the wine on the other.

" Would be nice." 

Using her free hand, she pushed him by the chest backwards, coaxing him to lie back down.

"Aefre. You will spill the wine and make the furs wet."

"I suspect they are already wet."

Gamling could only nod, his head hitting the pillow.

"And I have every intention of spilling the wine."

_~- uh oh ~-_

"Wha-"

Wine drizzled down his sternum, slow moving drops of dark red liquid. Before they could roll to places best not thought about, Aefre's tongue lapped, spiraling, tickling, sucking, wasting none of the liquid she had so painstakingly poured, moving from his chest, down to his stomach, down lower, dripping more...

Wine dribbled forward, her tongue sliding into his belly, sucking, down further...

_~- oh Béma I may die so happy...~-_

One hand went to the furs, grasping, the other went under the pillow next to him and in one swing, he pulled it over his face.

He heard her laugh before she inhaled him.

_~- so very happy... Here lies Gamling, who never made it to Gondor due to death of intense pain or pleasure caused by the mouth of...~-_

"Aefre?" He had lifted the very bottom of the pillow.

"Hmmm?"

"There's a drop rolling down on my..."

Her tongue licked at the spot lower down, sucking in first one, then the other...

"Never mind." His voice was uncommonly high. " You got it." The pillow went back down over his face.

_~-I'm dying. Why is her chest jerking against me...soooo disrespectful of the dying... Laughing at the soon to be dead...~-_

The moment the first drop of wine trickled down on Gamling's chest, Aefre decided he had been correct - he *was* the main course. And she was going to treat him as such. With a deliberate lap, she assaulted his collarbone, making scant work of the beading droplets. She inhaled, exalted in his scent, the lingering aroma of leather and horse and her... oh, she could smell herself on him, under the wine, under the sweat. Crisp hair tickled her nose as she moved her way down his chest, following the trail she trickled before her. Down the flat planes, ridges of his stomach, again following a path of layered hair to ...

That insistent rising staff. She watched him reach for the pillow and throw it over his face just as she bent down to coax whatever she could lick from him. 

_~-Ah... wine and male sweat and the salt of him and... hmmm wine down...~-_

She licked just as he noticed there was more than was supposed in places rarely explored.

Strange noises came from under the pillow as she made her way back up the ridged column under her mouth. As a youngster, she had enjoyed hiding in the pantries, the closets, hidden places, listening to the serving women in her father's house discuss the opposite sex. She had to admit, most of her education had come from these stolen moments hidden from the world. It surprised her how much some women did not enjoy the taste of a man, while others reveled in it and she had decided at a young age, it had to be an acquired taste. 

This one tasted glorious.

She had him in a rather firm hand and stroking downwards, had completely exposed the head to air. He was glistening with the clear liquid that she truly preferred. 

_~-Mustn't waste...~-_

She flicked the head with her tongue and blew, eliciting more strange noises from beneath the pillow. Deciding she had teased enough, she licked the top of ...

_~-velvethothardsweeeettasteofamanwonderful...~-_

... sucking in all that was there before encasing him, moving, relaxing, caressing with the back of her mouth.

More strange sounds from under the pillow.

_Hmmm._

The hand that had been clenching, squeezing at the furs, found her leg, was pulling, coaxing... moving up her thigh, angling...

She turned to face away, opposing him, on her knees and his fingers invaded her core yet again, his thumb finding that spot his tongue had lavished so much attention on. Their rhythms matched and when his breathing hitched, she pulled up and away.

Gamling pulled the pillow up a hair. "You stopped..."

"There's more." 

He felt her swing up and over him...

The pillow went flying.

_~-Yes!~-_

Aefre straddled him, positioning herself and began to undulate, keeping M'lord Happy everywhere but where he needed to be.

"What in Béma's name are you doing?"

_~-Dammit. She has an evil grin.... I think I like it... dammit... I'm sooo dooomed....~-_

"What do you want, Gamling?"

"Ah ha. We are going to play *that* game, are we?"

Aefre continued to move in circles, playing pelvic tease-dances. "What game? Only one you started."

He moved his hands up her thighs, her sides, to both breasts, again finding, teasing...

Aefre reached behind her, grasping him, gasping at the sensations he was causing her. "Ever... play... Ride the... Mearas?"

Gamling's jaw dropped open. It took a second to recover. With a leer, he turned her loose, one hand going to her hip to steady her, hold her still, the other reaching between her legs. He found himself, her hand and grasping both, he moved her so her sweet spot hovered just right.

"Aefre?"

"Hmmm?" She was still attempting to control the situation, not quite realizing she wasn't.

"There is an old saying."

"Oh?" She wiggled some more. "And that would be?"

"Save a horse. Ride a Rohirrim."

With that, he pushed her down, as he thrust up, impaling her, burying himself, clear to the hilt. Both of her hands flew, finally resting on his chest, his at her hips. He retreated, enough to almost lose her, only to thrust back. Aefre's eyes were wide, smile slowly spreading, as she dug her fingers in.

"Surprised, My Lady?"

She used the momentum from his hands to grind down. "No," she growled. "Are you?"

"By you? I try not to be." Gamling allowed her to move his hands, clasping them to her breasts, as she took control back. 

"Relax, you. It's my turn." Bracing herself on his hands, she set an uneven rhythm, none that could be danced to, ridden to, depended on.

Aefre's head was down, long mahogany locks draping her shoulders, her face. She was lost in sensation, the feel of him, the ride, the sound of them together, the wet, the slide, the gasp.

"Aefre." A whisper.

"Yessss..."

"What do you want?"

"Take me."

He turned her loose, grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her down to him. His lips canvassed hers. "You're not close."

"I know." she whispered back. "Take me."

"Aefre, I-"

The dying fire echoed in her eyes. "You've seen to me. Let me see to you. Take me. Pin me to the bedding. Tell me what you want."

In a breath, a sigh, he grabbed her, flipped her on her back, still imbedded, impaled. He grasped one long leg and placed it at his shoulder, kissing the ankle. 

_~-softsmelllikeappleapplesapplessowetandhothothothot~-_

He thrust full, pinning her to the bed.

"What do you want, Gamling?"

He pulled out and thrust in hard. "Tell me."

Fingers again found his chest, the scars, the puckered tender areas that shot bolts of lightning pleasure. "Tell you what?"

_Pull out. Thrust in._

"Tell me what's it like? How does it feel?"

"How do you feel? To me?"

_Pull out. Thrust in._

"Yessssss."

Aefre pulled her leg from his shoulder and pulling him to her, clasped and hooked her legs behind him, at his waist.

And she whispered in his ear, lurid things, heated things, things he never could imagine; how good he felt, long and heated and addictive, how he smelled, so male and of earth and wind and leather, things that made him harder and hotter and, oh Béma, the way she made them sound so dammit, dammit good and how she wanted to feel him convulse, explode, and throb, she could feel that too, like a rapid, threading pulse against outer edge of that cavern he was buried so deep within, the friction, how his hands, his mouth felt on her breasts, on the curve of her backside, how his ragged breathing made her want more, oh Béma, she wanted all of him, every inch, every scrap, every drop, buried deep within, and harder, harder, now, oh please, harder, pound me...

Somewhere he had pulled away, bringing both legs to his shoulders, bracing both hands beside her and he thrust... no, he banged her...

"Harder."

... he thrust, banged in again as hard as he could.

"Again."

_Yes._

"Again."

_I aim..._

"Again. Again. Tell me. Tell me. Again."

_...to please...._

"Again. Don't. Stop. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again."

_Now._

~-

There were twinkling stars outside the tent the two shared. There were twinkling stars behind Gamling's eyelids as well; he could see them clearly outlined in the lids of his eyes. He had collapsed completely on Aefre, his head on her shoulder. Her legs were down, her ankles at the backs of his knees and her arms held him close. She was playing in his hair and crooning something sweet and Aefre-y. 

_~-Kissing my ear silly witchy woman with breasts and hips and the sweethothothot oh magic please Béma letmelive to come backtothis everynight...~-_

"Can we move? It's-"

"Wet," he finished for her. He opened his eyes to darkness - the brazier had finally given out. He rolled, bringing her with him and with giggles and laughter, they pulled layers of the furs and coverings down, to dive in under, grabbing pillows, each other. They finally lay side - by - side, Aefre tucked protectively under his arm, hand tucked between her chin and his shoulder.

_~-The Elves have it wrong. The Undying Lands cannot be this wonderful; this peaceful...~-_

"I cannot believe how quiet you were." Aefre whispered against him.

"Oh?" It was out-rushed air.

"Yes."

"And?" 

"You made me yell and I -"

"You woke up The Dead. The Ranger will not have to rattle any bones at all. You've done it for him."

"I wasn't that bad."

"Yes, you were. I, on the other hand, would have alerted Sauron to our presence and the Rohirrim's cover would have been blown. I, My Lady, have more self-control than you." Gamling smiled smugly. 

He felt her bow up next to him. "Why you... you..."

"If you call me names, it will make me hard and randy, and I will be forced to make you make another wet spot in the bedding. I prefer to sleep dry tonight." Deftly, he flipped her to her side and spooning up against her, tucked her into his body and clasped her at the waist. "Please, Aefre. I've had a very long two days ride and I am surprised I lasted this long." She wriggled down to get comfortable. "Aefre..."

"I'm getting situated." His other arm was under her, cushioning her head beneath the pillow. Her hand covered his at her waist. "Goodnight, Just Gamling."

His breath ruffled her hair. "Goodnight."

There was no sound but breathing for several minutes. 

"Just Gamling?"

"What?"

Silence.

"Madam-" It was gritted.

"When you said that no one would pay attention to us, because they were doing what we were doing with the ones they loved... did you mean us as well?"

_~-thud~-_

When did his heart beat into his back of his throat?

_~-What is she asking? Is she asking what you think... hope...~-_

Gamling did something he had not done since a young man. 

He reached into that lonely, forgotten place. Locked when he decided love was for fools and men with time on their hands. And was very surprised the answer he received from it.

"Yes."

Silence. 

When she relaxed, he realized how tense she had been waiting. She rolled over, burrowing into his arms, tucking tighter into his embrace.

"Good. I would hate to think the one I made love to did not return my feelings. Goodnight, Just Gamling."

In an act very foreign to him, he curved her into him, his hand leaving her waist and going to her head. He threw his leg over her, pinning her to him.

"Good night, Aefre."

_~-  
TBC  
~-_

 

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view&current=RiderChpt12byleanin.jpg)

Artwork by Leanan


	15. 14 - The Things The Young do not know

***

Éomer was mad. 

No, that didn't quite state the obvious. Éomer was madder than a wet warg! 

The sun would soon be up, the camps would be stirring shortly; a few Riders were awake, horses were being saddled, armor was being donned - - -

And his uncle was still holed up in his tent! 

Worse, Éomer went to Gamling's tent and all he heard was laughter. 

Laughter! 

Béma's balls, they were literally on the eve of battle and rather than being out rousing the men, whipping them into a war fury, Théoden King was still abed and Gamling was laughing with Her! 

Bad enough one of the whores that warmed his bed last night had cast several longing glances at Gamling's tent before Éomer had swept her off with one of her co-workers to his own tent. Deep in the night, he had awakened to find her crying into her pillow.

"Eadignes-" 

"I'm sorry, m'lord," she whispered. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I'm sorry," she repeated. " 'Tis not my place." 

"Not your place?" He rolled over and pulled her into his arms. "Not your place to what?" He could feel the wetness on her cheeks against his arm. 

"It's not my place to care, to worry. It's not my place to - I'm sorry, m'lord." 

It dawned on Éomer that Eadignes always asked after the quiet Horse Lord, always looked for him. When Gamling went to the brothel, she would brush others aside, to tend to him. 

The longing glance at the tent... 

"Ah, Eadignes, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." 

He heard her sniff once. "It's all right. I'll be fine." 

In the dark, he had tried to reassure her, convince her that somewhere, someday, someone would... but she attempted to laugh him off. 

"No, m'lord," she whispered. "I'm a whore. My mother was a whore, as was her mother and her mother. My daughter, should I have one, will be a whore. 'Tis the only life I know." 

For the first time in his life, Éomer found himself consoling a woman other than his sister. 

It was not an easy feeling. 

Finally Théoden's tent flap opened and the King stepped out, followed by...

...a woman? 

He watched as his uncle kissed her on the forehead and hugged her. As Éomer crept closer, he could tell the woman was older, of an age with his uncle. 

Béma! 

He waited until the two parted ways, Théoden's eyes lingering fondly on the departing figure. 

Théoden was equally aware of the woman walking away from him as he was of the bristling young man beside him. "What?"

Éomer breathed deeply, trying to think of a subtle way to say it. "I would think at your age..."

"At _*my*_ age?" Théoden retorted, cutting the younger Horse Lord off. "Where is it stated only the young know passion?"

Éomer blushed. "I'm sorry, m'lord, I just... just..."

"Just what?"

Éomer dug his toes into his boots, and gestured at the retreating woman. "It's just unseemly."

Théoden burst out laughing. "What? You didn't think this old war horse could still cover a mare or two?"

"Si-ir!" Éomer whispered. "I hardly think _*she*_ is of an age to cover!"

Théoden pounded him hard on the back. "When you reach my age, you'll understand. I not only know what is good, I know why it's good and why I like it!" He looked around the not yet rising camp. "Is Gamling up?"

"There is giggling going on in his tent! I would suspect he's up in more ways than one!"

Indeed, he was.

Gamling woke feeling well refreshed, relaxed, well rested, every muscle... 

A wet, hot mouth around his--- 

_***Béma!***_

_***Oh, this is sinful, this is - - - -***_

He pulled up the fur to see... 

"Aefre?" 

"Hmmm hmmmm?" 

_***this is DIVINE! It's madness, but it's...***_

"Aren't you ... stuffy down ... oh...." She sucked in particularly deep. 

"Do you want me to stop?" she whispered against him.

"NO!" he almost shouted harshly. "No," he repeated more quietly.

"All right" she continued with her ... pleasuring activity. 

_***She's going to kill me! She is determined I won't make it to Gondor intact... Dammit! Dammit! Gaaaaah Béma! That's-***_

"Sir? Gamling?" There was scratching at the tent flap. Aefre inhaled deeper. 

"What?" Gamling barked, a little too loud, a little too high-pitched. "Don't open the flap!" Aefre never stopped; she continued her ministrations, albeit while giggling softly. "Stop that!" he hissed. Her head and tongue stopped moving. "Not that! Stop giggling!" 

She giggled again, but continued. 

_***Oh Béma, kill me please oh please...***_

"Sir?" 

"Wha-at?"

The young Rider's voice was clearly confused. "Lord Éomer is up and asked me to aid you in getting ready-" 

"I do not need help! Go help Éomer!" 

"But Lord Éomer is up and ready-" 

"Abéodan?"

"Yes sir?" 

"Go make.. caffe... no...feed Dréogan." 

"Dréogan? Feed Dréogan?" The young Rider's voice went up an octave. 

"Yessssss! Feed Dréogan!" Gamling voice hitched. "Armor him too!" His voice dropped in pitch. "And Firefoot. And Snowmane!" Gamling snorted through his nose. "There, that should keep you busy for a while," he muttered darkly. He threw back the furs and glared at the woman bobbing between his legs. "And now, My Lady," he hissed evilly, "I'm going to teach you how a Marshal of the Riddermark _*really*_ Rides the Mearas!" 

"Ooooooh!" 

_***Mwuhahahahahaha****_

*** 

For the second time, Éomer stood in front of Gamling's tent flap. He had seen Abéodan running from the area a quarter of an hour before, terrorized at the thought of armoring and feeding the Horse Lord's irascible mount. Éomer growled to himself, listening for... for... anything... 

"Gamling?" 

"Enter!" 

The younger horse Lord ducked in, eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light inside. He was greeted by the sight of his friend standing in the middle of the small tent, Aefre moving steadily around him, laying out armor. 

"Glad to see you're finally... up." 

"We've been *up* for a while," Gamling answered, not looking at the Rider behind him. "Aefre, I don't see my gauntlets. And I only see one glove."

"Don't you remember where you flung them last night?"

"Cheeky wench!"

Éomer rolled his eyes. First his uncle, and now Gamling bantering in... Béma! Absolutely disgusting!

"Is Théoden awake?" Gamling still had yet to turn and visually acknowledge the younger Horse Lord in the tent.

"Yes. He is breaking his fast as we speak. He will need your help soon."

Aefre had gone down on her hands and knees, peering around the bedding. 

"And the rest of the camp?" Gamling had now joined her on the ground, hands roaming.

"Just beginning to stir. I suspect the rest of them will rouse by dawn."

"Fine... OUCH!" Gamling sat back on his knees, a hair... clip?... in his hands. "I believe this is yours, My Lady."

Éomer was twitching in disgust. "Do the two of you mind?" he gritted between his teeth. 

Finally, Gamling looked at him. Balefully. "Are you in such a hurry to ride to battle, youngling?" 

"No." 

"Has Théoden requested my presence?" 

"No, not yet." For some reason, Éomer felt like an errant child. 

If Gamling was taking pity on the younger Horse Lord, he did not show it. "Go and eat. I dare say it will be the last meal you eat in peace for quite some time. I will be there shortly." He nodded, dismissing the man. The two waited for the tent flap to settle before turning to each other. Aefre held out both of his armored gauntlets.

"Let's get you ready, Just Gamling." 

Gamling took the gauntlets from her. "You don't have to do this, Aefre."

"Yes," her voice was tight. "I do." She moved around him, donning each piece of leather, of armor, layering him in protective gear, adjusting his greaves, buckling, tying, making sure each piece was secure. Finally, all that was left were his gauntlets and gloves. Aefre held the first glove out to him.

"Wait." She looked at him questioningly. "I would have something of yours." 

Aefre let out a laugh. "You randy stallion! You already have-" 

"No." He placed several fingers over her mouth. "You misunderstand. I would have something to take with me; something," his hands went from her lips to her hair, "to remind me what I am fighting for." He pulled the ribband that she had hurriedly pulled back her hair with and inspected the stitchery on it. "Your ... husband's insignia?" 

"My father's." 

_***Ah***_

He held out his left hand, watching as she tied the dainty strip of material around his wrist, enough to stay, but not too tightly. Reverently, he wrapped the long ends around his hand before donning his gloves; she finished strapping on his gauntlets. Finally, he traced his finger under her chin, his thumb caressing her lip.

"I'm sorry if I was too rough in Edoras." 

"I didn't mind." 

He took both of her hands in his, inspected her calloused fingers - 

_***not afraid to work hard, not afraid to fight, not afraid...***_

_*** ...of me...***_

"Aefre, I'm not... I'm not good... with words..."

"You've done very well so far."

Gamling dropped his head between his shoulders.

_***Béma how to say this without looking like a complete cretin lummox oaf idiot...***_

"I'm not...refined... or..."

Aefre watched the Horse Lord struggle with words, with thoughts. So quiet, so circumspect, this one. "I talk enough for both of us, Just Gamling. You are more than enough Rohirrim for me." Her hands tightened in his. "How much time do we have? For us?"

_***not even...***_

"Five minutes, at the most."

_***ah***_

She disentangled herself from Gamling's grip and took a deep, steadying breath. "Could you hold me, please, Just Gamling?"

There were no words, no thoughts, no sighs, as he enveloped her, pulled her to him. For those few, precious minutes, there was nothing except the sounds of the rousing camp outside.

_***Béma, how do I do this, how do I pull away, leave...***_

"Aefre?" She nodded against his chest. "When you return to Edoras, bring the refugees inside the walls. House them in the stables, in the barracks, in the Golden Hall. Give everyone a job, a chore, a reason to work. Make sure they know it's an important responsibility and praise them for every step forward. Keep them busy. Eowyn will more than likely sit in Théoden's stead. Help her. Make sure there are guards around the clock. Do you understand?" She nodded again against his chest.

"Just Gamling?" It was muffled.

"Yes?"

"Promise me. Promise me you will come home, on your own two feet, by your own will."

Breath long pent up was let out slowly. "I cannot promise that-"

"Damn you! Just say it!" She thumped him hard on his armor-clad chest.

Leather - clad fingers chucked under her chin and lifted it up. Stern blue eyes bore into hers. "Do not weaken on me at the final moment, Aefre," he told her firmly. "I need you strong. I need to know Rohan is left in strong hands."

Gamling watched her resolve harden. "Very well. If you do not return to me, I will go and find your worthless carcass on the battlefield and kick it back to the Riddermark! I'll make sure Dréogan gorges himself on apples daily-"

"You will NOT spoil my horse-"

Aefre had stepped back, hands on her hips-

_***proudsassyhothotwitchywomanBémawithhthehothotsweetmouth hothotpleaseletmetlivetoteasethathothothotmouth...***_

"Aye, and spoil him ‘til he's fat and lazy. I'll let him loose in the brood mares and allow him to spread himself without a care worrying about stud or blood lines!"

"If you spoil my stallion, I will be forced to haunt your very days!"

"Promise?"

Gamling heard the underlying desperation in her voice and knew deep down what she was doing. He pulled her to him and kissed her. "I will come back, one way or the other." He kissed her again. "Help Eowyn keep Rohan safe." He kissed her again; lingering... Finally, he pulled away. "I have to go to Théoden." Again, he saw her reign in her resolve.

"Don't forget your helmet." She reached around him to the small table where it sat and handed it to him.

"I hate that thing," he muttered.

"I know. Wear it because it will appease me." He snatched it from her reluctantly, before stroking her under the chin. "What are you doing?"

_***hothothotwitchyfirefireloveyouneedyouhothot...***_

"Memorizing your face." He crushed her to him, one last time, stealing her breath, stealing her-

_***-my-***_

_-soul._

"I want to find you naked in my bed upon my return." He turned, his cloak whipping behind him and was out through the tent flap in the blink of an eye.

He was fifteen feet from the tent before her howls of fury rent the air.

"Naked? In _your_ bed? You pompous arse! You lout! You bonehead, you clod..."

"You forgot dullard," he called back.

"ACK!!!"

Gamling walked up to a stunned Éomer, who held an uneaten pear in his hand. Gamling snatched it from the distracted Horse Lord and bit into it. "Rule number one, youngling. Always leave them screaming for more."

***

In a scene hauntingly reminiscent of the one slightly over two weeks previous at Helm's Deep, Gamling moved carefully, meticulously assisting Théoden in putting on his riding armor.

"Snowmane has been readied?" Théoden was pulling on his gloves. 

"Yes, m'lord."

It was quiet for a few moments, Théoden checking his vambraces and greaves.

"Gamling?"

"Yes, sire?"

Théoden was staring at the tapestry hanging at the back of the tent. "You have ever been a faithful and steadfast servant to Rohan."

"Sire, my duty-"

"And-" Théoden interrupted, "a good friend to me."

_***Friend? Friend? Me? My kingsiremylord,Béma! Friend..."_

"I admired and respected your father's counsel, when I was new to the throne, and you have filled his riding boots most admirably, perhaps even more so. There is no finer praise I can think of." Théoden turned to address the Rider standing behind him. "I expect you to give Éomer as good counsel as you have given me. He will need a strong advisor and a faithful friend, when he assumes the throne." Théoden couldn't tell if his officer was dumb-struck or horrified. "Gamling, if I should fall, I need to know that Rohan is in good, strong hands. Éomer will be a strong, able king, with a good head on his shoulders. He will need an equally strong, able advisor, with as just a good a head on his shoulders. I want your word that you will be that Horse Lord."

The enormity of everything Théoden was saying mentally staggered his Marshal.

_*** if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall if I sho-***_

"You have my word, sire."

"Good." Théoden turned and headed towards the tent flap. "Oh, one more thing." Gamling looked at him expectantly. "Bed Aefre often. Do it in love. If she is anything like Elfhilde, it will sweeten her tongue. Don't forget your helmet." The tent flap shut with a whisper. "Come, Men of the Riddermark! We ride!"

***

Aefre fumed for a good three minutes before reverting to more angry grousing.

"That damned Rider! How dare he think he can order me about, like I was chattel, just because we... because I... that... Orc! That gob! That..."

The tent flap opened and she spun to vent her ire on...

"Willan!" The mute nodded. "I need you to move Adenydd from the main corral; especially, to make sure she is removed from that jackass's horse; and ready her for travel." Willan gave her a look of mild shock. "I must talk to Éowyn. After you have moved Adenydd, you may begin taking down this tent, and make sure the bedding and furniture are back in their proper space in Edoras. I will have final instructions for you later." She nodded curtly at the tall man, as she left the tent.

The camp was now in disarray, the final stages of leaving, Riders scurrying from place to place, the sounds of horses being saddled, armored, calls to fellows, arming up, last goodbyes and orders being issued. She hurried directly to the tent she was to have shared with Éowyn, hoping beyond hope that no one would pay attention to the wren-like woman darting through the camp. She ducked into the tent, to see Éowyn half clad in her fighting tunic and struggling with her shoulder plates.

"Aefre! I... I..."

Aefre just glanced at her as she rushed by. She pulled her trunk from under her unused cot and kicked it open, revealing her armor, her weapons, and her morningstar. "My name is Heldwin, Rider. I'll help you into your armor, if you help me into mine."

***  
tbc  
***


	16. 15 - Contingent of the Pompous Arse Riders

***

"That horse's rear-end! That.... pile of cattle dung! That... that...."

"Pompous Arse," Aefre supplied.

"Thank you! Pompous arse! Pomp. Pass. Arse." Éowyn popped the syllables, testing them on her lips. She thrust her arm out at the older woman, waiting for her to buckle the shoulder harness. "You know little of war!" Éowyn dropped her voice pitch deep, mimicking her brother. "War is the providence of men! Bah!" She slung her gauntlet across the tent, only to stomp over to pick it up. "If women ran things, there would be no war!"

Aefre shook her head and smiled. "Yes, there would. Just think. Negotiations of treaties would have to be planned around our monthly cycles."

Éowyn sat on the edge of her cot, laughing, "True. Can you imagine the men? Tiptoeing around us? Now, that would be a sight!" She pulled on her boots. "Do you need anything else?"

Aefre was pulling on her heavy riding gloves. "No, I think I have it all." She grabbed her weapons, her belt, and began to strap them on. 

"You spent the night with Gamling last night?" Éowyn asked quietly.

"Aye."

"And?"

Aefre stopped buckling. "You are much too curious for the shy virgin who hid in my room a few times."

"Hiding from Grima, yes! Hiding from one I wanted? No." Her smile faltered and she slowly began to belt on her own weapons. "If I could ever find one I want who wants me back."

The last of Aefre's gauntlets were pulled and strapped on. "What? There is a man impervious to your charms? You would have your pick of Horse Lords!" 

"I don't want a Horse Lord."

Aefre could hear the wistfulness in the Shield Maiden's voice. "Oh honey, not the Elf?"

"No!" Éowyn hissed. "He would probably use all my nicer smelling hair soaps!"

Understanding dawned on Aefre's features. "The Ranger-"

Éowyn’s shoulders hitched as she stifled a sob. "He said I loved a shadow; a dream. And he wished me joy. On the eve of battle, he wished me joy!" She shook her head ruefully. "What a farce!"

"No, not a farce. Not at all." Aefre began to check everything one last time. "The eve of battle and I've found joy. Now I have to sneak behind and make sure that damned, arrogant Rider doesn't lose his head."

Éowyn helped check Aefre's vambraces. "You're falling in love with him, aren't you?"

"Falling?" Aefre chuckled. "Try fell splat hard and before last night, if you must know." She turned and began to do the final checks of Éowyn’s armor.

"I'm glad for you." Éowyn admitted bashfully. "How do you know?"

"How do I know?" The older Shield Maiden did not mince words. "How did I know I was in love? With my husband or with Gamling? What did you feel for Aragon?"

Éowyn was taken aback at the turning of the table. "My... my... mother always told me I should look for a man; one who was brave and honorable; one who would not back down to a true, honest fight. One who would treat me with respect and dignity. One who would listen to me and consider my counsel."

"That's all?"

"Well... yes." Éowyn scowled in thought. "Is there more?"

Aefre laughed out loud. "Oh yes, there are a few more. Actually, two more and the rest will fall into place."

Éowyn was now strapping on her weapons. "And what is that?"

Aefre's outfit was complete and she picked up her helmet. "Make sure he loves you more than his horse and will be a gentle and attentive lover. But most of all, he should make your soul sing."

Éowyn was beyond confused. "My soul? Sing? How do I know it's doing that?"

"Don't worry. You will." Aefre patted her on the shoulder and lowered her voice. "Do you have a name, Rider?"

"Oh dear. Haven't really thought about that." 

"Quickly! We haven't got all day."

Éowyn scrunched her face for a moment. "Duh... der... Dernhelm . Dernhelm."

"Good choice. Dernhelm it is! Let's get out horses." Aefre grabbed the last piece pieces of armor, the chest and face plates for Adenydd and hurried out of the tent flap...

Straight into a stone wall.

A stone wall of a man.

"Ah. Willan! Just the man I want to see."

Willan was aghast. He shook his head back and forth - 

_*What do you think you are doing?*_

His eyes grew bigger when Éowyn pushed out behind her. "Aefre... no... Heldwhin... I..."

Both women were shoved backwards into the tent by massive paws. Willan blocked the tent flap and crossed his arms over his chest.

_*What are you doing?*_

"Willan, please. I realize this looks... strange..."

Willan's eyes bugged. _*Oh?*_

"Willan." Aefre put her hand on the giant's arm. "Please understand. Éowyn and I can help. We're trained; we're not helpless or useless and we would both linger here. Rohan must aid Gondor and it's unfair to leave us behind. Besides," she hung her head and admitted bashfully, "I was left behind when Lufian died. I can't be left behind again." A rare grunt escaped the man's throat, as he shook his head and stepped slightly to the side. "Oh, Béma, thank you. I knew you would understand. Listen carefully. Bring the refugees into the city. House them anywhere. Give them chores, responsibilities. Set plenty of guards around the clock and change them out often. Keep them busy. Prepare for spring planting. It is time." She grabbed him at the waist and hugged him tightly. "I value your friendship, so very much. You mean the world to me." She turned him loose. "Where are our horses?"

Willan motioned down and further away - the furthest tether, apparently. Aefre thanked him again and went to step around him, when he grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce bearhug.

Éowyn got one as well.

The two finally escaped the tent and almost finished gearing up their horses when Théoden's call went out.

"Hurry!" Éowyn whispered, pulling up on Hengist.

Aefre was tugging at Adenydd's face plate. "Hang on... just a moment-" Finally, she pulled up on her mount, made sure her morningstar was secured tightly. She pulled her helmet over her head. "Ready?"

Éowyn was pulling hers on as well. "Ready!"

The two trotted out and moved into the departing column of Riders. Aefre immediately began scanning the row, looking for the familiar figure...

Bah! He was too far away, she was too far back, but maybe that was a good thing for now. Aefre turned to check on Éowyn, when she saw him - the little Hobbit standing forlornly in the dirt. She whistled once, gaining Éowyn’s attention and pointing.

Seconds later, Meriadoc Brandybuck was ensconced on Hengist, in front of Éowyn, grinning his little Halfling head off.

Smiling herself, Aefre settled in, Adenydd finding a comfortable stride when it dawned on her that she was riding into war - real war. It made her gut clench.

Unbeknownst to her, eyes from her past were fixated on her mare's rump.

***

They had finally settled in at a moderate trot after half an hour of hard riding.

_***So far, so good. Three day ride. Not enough Rohirrim. Maybe Army of the Dead. Wretched odds. Aefre safe... safesafehothothotfierysafesafe for now Dréogan seems to be well rested and alert... I have a backache and could have used another one... two hours... Béma I could have slept the day hothothotwitchywoman in my-***_

"You slept well last night, Gamling?"

"Well enough, my lord."

Éomer was making rude _*coughcoughnoisycough*_ sounds.

"Did you have something to say, youngling?"

"No, not me. I slept like a newborn colt, I did, even if the woman in the tent next to mine was calling to the glory of Béma and telling the Dunharrow that her *coughcoughGamlingcoughcoughcough* Horse Lord was the most spectacular rutting beast of the Riddermark!"

_***There are times when I love my helmet. Now is one.***_

"You slept well, sire?"

"Yes. I rested well." Théoden smiled to himself, reflections of an enjoyable evening well remembered. "Very well." Éomer inhaled to cough and sputter again, but a look from Théoden stopped him. 

"Hasn't changed a bit, has he?" Elfhelm, the Horse Lord from the Eastemnet had pulled up on the other side of Théoden.

Both Gamling and Théoden shook their heads.

They continued in silence for another ten minutes, watching the passing scenery, each ruminating on their own thoughts...

...feeling Dréogan tense beneath him.

_***what the...***_

Dréogan stopped dead in his tracks, nickering, sniffing the air.

Éomer was immediately serious. "Gamling? Is something wrong?" Even Théoden stopped.

Dréogan was now nickering, worrying, pulling hard to the left. Gamling loosened his grip and the warhorse turned completely around, facing the Riders behind them.

"What is the matter with your horse?" Éomer hissed.

"He hasn't changed a bit either, I see." Elfhelm whispered to the King.

Dréogan was now pulling at the reins, his nose out in the air, obviously agitated.

"You go on with Elfhelm and Théoden," Gamling called over to Éomer. "Something is wrong." He saw Éomer shrug and turn back, helmet plume flying in the wind. Dréogan was now earnestly ignoring his commands, something his well-trained destrier did not do when he was armored in battle gear. 

_*** In fact, only one other time had he behaved thus and it had not been more than a week before...***_

"All right, you!" Gamling leaned over and whispered in his ear, ignoring the passing Riders. "Go find her!"

Dréogan immediately surged forward, nose out, neighing softly, calling, his Rider equally searching for the familiar dapple grey.

***

Aefre saw him first, threading his way, scanning the passing Riders as they filed past him. She saw him nod, acknowledge those that dipped to his rank. She knew it would only be a matter of time before she was caught. "Dernhelm." Éowyn and Merry both glanced over. "Fight hard. Move away." Aefre moved to the left, away from the twosome, and the last she saw of the Shield Maiden and Hobbit were two sets of frightened eyes as Hengist moved to the right, Éowyn finally seeing Gamling making his way doggedly towards Aefre.

_***dammnitdammitwitchywomanhothotdammit how dare she follow going to put her over my knee and beat her and...***_

Gamling finally saw her threading away, saw Adenydd's winged markings, a dark haired Rider attempting to put horses and men between them. Dréogan was having none of that and neither was Gamling. No one near them could tell which was louder - Dréogan neighing or Gamling growling angrily. Riders went around, moved aside as the well-respected Captain pushed and picked his way through and angled up next to the Rider on the grey mare.

"Either stop or hand me your reins."

Aefre moved away from him.

Dréogan still wasn't having any of that. Neither was Adenydd. 

Gamling purposely moved up again, reaching over and grabbing her reins. "Stop. Now." It was hissed, whispered and Aefre could tell she had pushed her limit as far as it would go. She could feel the fury emanating from him. They waited several minutes while the others moved around them, many giving her glances of pity, sympathy. Gamling's reputation as a just, but harsh taskmaster was well known and well-earned. Whatever the Rider on the Dapple had done, well, he earned it and was in for a difficult time of it. No one would rescue him from it.

The last Rider was now past.

"Remove your helm."

"Why?" She tried to lower and gruff her voice.

_***Béma! She's going to try to bluff me. ME! Damned difficult stupid dammit woman going to war Béma help us all...***_

Dréogan was nuzzling Adenydd affectionately, the two of them oblivious to the war brewing on their backs. 

"Remove. Your. Helm."

"Why?"

"I gave you an order-"

"And I asked you a question. What have I done to garner your ire?"

_***ooooh she's good! Béma's Balls... careful... careful... she is going to keep me busybusybusy when I return...calm down... deep breath...careful... you are the Rider... you are the Riderl...***_

"I know this mare and I know the Shield Madam who owns her." Gamling's voice was soft, dangerous. "She would not loan her out for such a journey. Therefore, you either stole her - which I will gladly hang you for, immediately, or you are she."

"And if I am she?"

"Stop bandying words with me, Aefre! Remove your helm now!"

Slowly, she removed her helmet, shaking out her-

_***glorious, long thickrun my fingers through her mane softsoftsoft... dammit! Dammit!foolish...***_

\- hair 

"Now what?" 

_***Now what? Glory to...Béma preserve us!...***_

When he finally spoke, it felt to Aefre as if the ground beneath Adenydd's hooves trembled.

"When I finish with you, you will not be able to sit your horse for a month. Do you have any idea how much trouble you have just caused?"

tbc


	17. 16 - Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaefreeeeeeeeeeeeee you gots some 'splainin' to do...

***

The pounding hooves of the Rohirrim faded in the distance, the dust settling in their wake. Gamling was bristling.

_***My life was so much simpler before... damn Éomer and his schemes, damn every happily married man in the Riddermark, damn her for making me this angry...***_

Gamling pulled back in his saddle. "Get on in front of me," he rumbled. 

"What? Your saddle isn't built for two and I certainly am more than capable of riding to Gondor-" 

"You are not going to Gondor! Now either get on in front of me or I shall haul you off Adenydd and you will return to the Dunharrow camp face down across my lap! You. Won't. Like. It!"

"Gamling!" she started nonchalantly, "I think you are over -reacting -" 

"Do _*not*_ push me any further! You have five seconds!" 

"Gamling! Really!" 

"Five!"

"Béma!" 

"Don't swear. Four!" 

Aefre dismounted and glared up at him. "What am I to do with Adenydd's reins?" 

"Hand the reins to me. Three." 

"What? Hand them to you? Why you reprehensible-" 

_***uh oh, big word now she's mad.. hothothotsweet foolish...***_

"-ill-mannered-" 

"Oaf. Two." 

"Damn you!" She slapped her reins in his outstretched hand. Going around the front of the two horses and - 

_***damn jackassbane of my existence you are you doing this to me who's going to watch over you???***_

"Gamling," she glared off in the distance. "I can't get on in front of you." 

"Wo-" 

"It will be awkward!" Her eyes were stinging, but she would be damned if she would allow him to reduce her to tears. "I... can't get on... with you already there. Not in front at least. And not while I'm holding my helmet!" 

Gamling rolled his eyes and moved forward. "Fine. Put it back on and get behind me then." 

"Your cloak is in the way." 

_***dammit dammit waste of my time I should have just let her go into battle for all the trouble she's giving me...***_

Gamling yanked and wadded his cloak around in front of him in his lap. He watched her struggle for a few moments as she attempted to mount the large warhorse. Finally exasperated- 

_***Why are you doing this to me? can't you understand - ***_

_***Why are you forcing my hand in this way? Why can't you do what I asked you to do...***_

-he pulled his feet from the stirrups and extended his hand. 

"I don't need your help." 

"Aefre..." 

"I don't *want* your help!"

"Aefre!" 

_***uh - oh... now I've done it...***_

"You have trod firmly on my last nerve. Take. My. Hand!" Reluctantly, she slapped her hand into his and allowed him to help her up. Reaching around her, he flipped her cloak to the side and tied her horse's reins to the back of his saddle. "You are wearing a Rider's cloak."

She didn't respond. 

"Tell me how you acquired a Rider's Cloak?" Gamling nudged Dréogan forward, back towards the camp. 

Aefre still did not respond.

"Aefre-" 

"It was my husband's!"

_***I know well what importance one such as you would place in a cloak such as this...***_

"There is no insignia, no braiding. It must have been his first one." 

"It was." 

_***Béma! We are almost an hour out of camp. Théoden will keep them at a trot for another two hours, then a hard gallop for an hour before resting.... dammit dammit, I might catch back up by midday...***_

"Aefre. Hold on to me tightly."

Aefre's hands were clenched in her lap. "I'm fine." 

Gamling was getting tired of speaking to her through clenched teeth. "Aefre, I am weary of arguing with you. Hold onto me." He could feel her tense up, tighten behind him. 

"No." 

_***So be it***_

Gamling nudged Dréogan into a trot, causing Aefre to bounce, off balance. She gabbed onto Gamling's waist. Transferring his reins to one hand, he covered hers with the other. "Don't turn loose." 

"This is unfair to Adenydd."

Gamling looked over his shoulder to see the mare keeping up easily. "She's fine." 

For some time, Aefre kept herself as apart, as away from him as possible. Eventually, she gave up and pulled in close, laying her face against his back. 

_***Finally! Finally give up yesyesyes uh oh no Aefre does not give up I am in for a fight like...***_

They rode in silence, painful for her, his thoughts churning, eating him. Her tenacity, stupidity, femininity... 

_***all these ity words Béma...***_

Determination 

_***Yes! Thank You!***_

Sooner than either realized, the camp came into view, tents down, wagons loaded. Gamling could see Willan, silently in charge, directing women and children and men unable to travel far. It crossed his mind to take her into camp, make an example of her, but public humiliation had never been a way his way to keep a Rider under his command in line. Instead, he stopped just outside of camp.

"Get down." 

He felt Aefre sigh and turn loose. He focused on the camp, using the time to get his temper in check, waiting for her to dismount. He heard her feet hit the ground. Still not looking at her, he looped the reins around the pommel of his saddle, before dismounting. He could see her helmet hanging limply from her hands, her riding boots in the periphery of his vision and he focused on them for a moment. 

"Really, Gam-" 

"Do not say a word." 

Finally, he looked up and it registered that she took an involuntary step back, her helmet dropping almost soundlessly to the earth.

_***oh and aye, You should be afraid! Be very afraid...***_

Aefre had tucked her hands behind her back. "Gamling. Please. Let me explain-" 

"Explain?" he whispered. He yanked his helmet from his head and threw it to the ground, the metal clanging dully in the dirt. "You can explain until the sun goes down. It will not matter. You can explain until the last Rider returns from Gondor. It will not matter." He advanced on her, backing her up, into a tree. 

"Gamling. I think Adenydd is picking her reins loose-"

"Do _*not_ * change the subject!" 

"I am not changing the subject, you brute!" She gestured angrily over towards their abandoned mounts. Sure enough, Adenydd was pulling at the knot of her reins, Dréogan attempting to help.

"He'll get her loose." Gamling turned back to her, one hand now braced by her head on the tree trunk. Lazily, he took in her armor, her gear, chain mail that - 

_***fit her like it was made for her***_

\- molded to her shape. He drew a single, leather-encased finger around her neckline. "This is not your husband's." 

"No."

Slowly his eyes slide, over her, taking in her form- 

_***that I licked and suckled so thoroughly tasted so good dammit dammit***_

\- before sweeping up and locking into her gaze, visually pinning her to the tree. 

"It was made for you." 

"Yes." 

"Like your morningstar was made for you." 

"Yes." 

He continued to look her over, the chain mail was not new; it had seen use, it was supple under his finger. "You have fought before-"

"The Wold is a harsh place. I'm not a stranger to fighting. I'm not afraid of blood and I'm not afraid to kill someone who means to harm me or those whom I love!" Her breathing hitched, became rapid and shallow and she was visibly upset. 

"So you have killed before." 

Aefre's eyes fell, feet digging holes in the ground beneath her. "I.... ye.... yes..." 

_***hmmm sounds like a not so enjoyable time for my spirited Shield Madam.***_

"My husband trusted me at his side!" That came out in a rush, the effort it cost her, obvious. 

"Orcs? Men?" 

"Men." she whimpered. "Two." 

_***ah, a veritable slaughterer are you My Lady***_

"With your morning-" 

"Yes, yes! With my morning star!" Involuntarily, she hugged herself as a cool wind he didn't feel blew through the sparse trees. 

"Not like a straw dummy, is it?"

Aefre was still looking at the ground, tears now beginning to flow. "No," she whispered. "It made me sick afterwards. Now you will think me weak..."

Casually, his hand slid to her neck, cupping her jaw and she leaned into the gentle pressure. "No. I do not think you weak. It would disturb me greatly if it hadn't affected you at all." Gamling pulled her in close, again reveling in the nearness of her, the scent of apples and - yes - last night's sex - vaguely sensed under the leather and chain mail. "Aefre. I gave you a specific order - to aid Éowyn. She will need you, Edoras will need you." He didn't dare tell her he needed her here, safe, in charge in case the Riders in Gondor fell. 

_***if I should fall***_

"Why did you follow me?"

Aefre tensed up, bowed up in his embrace. "To watch your back, you arrogant man! To make sure you don't get hurt!" 

The thought of Aefre standing up to hundreds of thousands of Orcs 

_***... standing on a hill, the muster of the Rohirrim behind her, shaking her fist at leagues of Orcs - Damn you, you'll not touch a hair on his head! and someday Mearas will fly!***_

\- and Béma only knows that almost made Gamling laugh, but he managed to contain himself.

"Why would you need to watch-" 

"I was left behind before!" Her fist thumped on his armor. "He went to hunt a stupid boar and left me behind!" Her fingers wrapped around the leather straps across his chest. "Lufian was hit in the back of his head! I would have watched his back!" She thumped her head against him. "I have watched his back before! I would have watched yours! " She turned loose and tried to shove him backwards. "Damn it! Damn it! Do not make me beg!"

_***No. I did that last night...***_

"Aefre. You cannot go to Gondor-" 

"Why not? Give me one good reason?" 

Gamling pushed forward, pinning her to the tree. "Because you are needed here, because Éowyn needs your counsel, because I forbid it, because-" 

"That's more than one!" 

"-I need to know you're safe! Béma! Will you be quiet?" 

Aefre's mouth snapped open again to berate him, snapped shut again, became unhinged...

"What the-" - her eyes focused around him. "Gamling, your horse is servicing my mare!" 

"What?" Gamling turned and looked over his shoulder to see Dréogan doing just that to a very willing Adenydd. "No wonder he knew you were back behind us," he shrugged good - naturedly. "Can't begrudge him that." 

_***Yes yes yesyes! That is MY destrier!***_

He turned back to the woman now ensconced in his arms. "Has Adenydd ever been bred before?" 

"No, I wouldn't let her. There wasn't a stallion whose bloodlines..." 

"Do you have a problem with my stallion's bloodlines?" 

"No," she whispered. He leaned over and nuzzled her. 

"Only with his Rider?" 

"Only when his Rider is being a bonehead." 

"That's part of my job. Captain of the Riddermark, general of Théoden King's Army, several thousand men under my command, Aefre's personal bonehead." 

Aefre was laughing into his chest. "Since when did you become so glib?" 

He tightened his embrace. "It is a ruse; it's keeping me from throttling you." His resolve hardened, his anger renewing itself. "Aefre, do you have any idea of the stupidity-" 

"Don't! Don't berate me!" Gamling looked down to see her staring at him, earnestly. "Don't leave me. Don't make me stay behind. Let me go, please." 

"No." 

"Gamling, please-" 

She was silenced by a single finger. "If I didn't care for you, love you, I would not have bothered bringing you back or explaining this. Someone must stay behind and help to manage Edoras in Théoden's absence. Someone must bolster the hopes of those left behind. Someone must organize the patrols, the watch. Spring planting must begin this week. Éowyn will need help. The job, the charge I leave you with is every bit as important as fighting. Men will die, Aefre. Someone must be here to pick up the pieces. Helm's Deep was just a taste of the wailing that will be heard in Rohan at the outcome of this war." He held her tighter, whispering in her ear. "If Gondor falls, someone must gather what is left of the Rohirrim and either make a stand or decide where to run. Believe me, what I ask of you is more difficult than what you wish for." 

"Gamling, please, Don't leave me behind. I can't-" 

"You can!" His finger slid under her chin and he lifted it, forcing her to look at him. "You will!" He thumbed the single tear from her cheek. "I wish no angry words between us. Give up, Aefre. You will not win this one." He looked over his shoulder, Dréogan and Adenydd still- 

"Damn!" Gamling whistled between his teeth. "I wish I had his stamina!" 

"I'm glad you don't." Aefre mumbled hotly. "Ah, no..." 

"What?" 

"Willan." 

Sure enough, visible in the distance, driving a loaded wagon, Willan headed towards them slowly. Although he was still some distance away, worry was evident on his face.

"Good. I can leave you in strong hands." 

"Gamling, please-" 

"Aefre!" Again , his voice was clipped and tight. "There is no discussion. It will take me several hours to catch back up to the Muster of Rohan. Dréogan might not be at full strength due to your willfulness." Willan was now close enough to hear the argument. 

"Upon my return, we will discuss who owns the foal your mare no doubt is now carrying-" 

"Owns? OWNS? We'll discuss a stud fee and nothing else!" 

"Deal! Willan!" Gamling grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the lumbering cart. "Willan! Did you know this contrary woman disguised herself and tried to pass herself off as a Rider?" 

Willan looked at Aefre, smiled serenely and shrugged. He tossed an apple to Gamling and a carrot to Aefre. He winked at Aefre. 

_*sorry*_

"You knew and you let her go? Dréogan! Apple!" Gamling held it up in the air and listened for the inevitable thundering hooves. "You and I will have a talk when I return. In the meantime-" the apple was snatched from the Horse Lord's hand by eager equine teeth, "do not allow her to follow. Take Adenydd's shoes off and confine her to a locked box stall, if you must-" 

"Gamling! NO!" 

"Yesss. Do you understand, Willan? If you have to tie this woman to my bed, do so." 

"Gamling!" 

_***no wait. I'll do that when I return. hmmmmm***_

"Aefre," he took the carrot from her hand and gave it to her mare, "no angry words. Just do as I bid." He kissed her on the forehead. "I'll be back as quickly as I can and you may yell, berate and curse me until the end of time. I'll yell back. It will be noisy and we will drive Éomer and Éowyn insane." 

"We'll find him an ugly, dumpy, princess." 

Dréogan was nuzzling Adenydd again and he had a distinct gleam in his eye. Gamling grabbed the mare's reins and handed them to Willan. 

"Quick. Tie her to the back of the cart before my stallion gets any more ideas. Bad enough I have to ride his sweaty arse back." Willan climbed down from the wagon and took Adenydd towards the rear. While the man was turned away, Gamling kissed the woman again in his arms. " I need you here. I need to know you are safe. I need to know you are keeping Éowyn strong. Please understand." He pulled her close once again. "Get in the cart. Now."

"Gamling... ple-"

One moment, she was standing on the ground, in his embrace; the next, she was flying in the air and found herself on the crude shelf of a seat. 

"No angry words, Aefre. I don't wish them echoing in my head going into battle." He patted her knee and stepped back. "You have this wench in hand, Willan?" The mute saluted, a mischievous grin on his face. "Good. Turn it around and head home. I _*will*_ see you again, Aefre. After all, we have a stud fee to discuss."

The cart pulled in a jerk, slowly making a large circle. Gamling took Dréogan by the reins and swung up and with one last look, turned and took off back in the direction he had come. He knew Aefre was watching, would watch until she could see him no longer.

Both forgot the dropped and thrown helmets, lying over-looked in the dirt.


	18. 17 - Ere the Red Sun Rises

***

It was almost sunset before Gamling finally caught up to the Rohirrim horde. He could have intercepted them by early mid-day, had he pressed, but he didn't want to over-tax Dréogan. Between racing through the Eastenment, riding out and back, plus servicing Aefre's... 

_***hothotdammitdammitwitchyfirecrazywoman***_

...mare, well... Gamling's brain was exhausted just thinking about it. And rather than race to catch the Éorlings, he kept a steady pace, eating dried venison strips and drinking water from his water skin. When the sun began to set, he saw the lingering dust, signaling that he was close. He rode into camp, nodding at the Riders, greeting those in his command. He found Théoden and Elfhelm, as well as Éomer, quickly enough.

"Wondered where you had gotten to." Éomer sat by a small campfire, a kettle of whatever the Riders had caught simmering. He dished up a bowl and handed it to the older Horse Lord.

"I'm fine." Gamling gratefully took the stew, which appeared to be mostly rabbit and other unidentifiable pieces. 

"What was it that upset Dréogan so much?" Théoden asked quietly. 

"Mare in season." Gamling sat down beside Théoden and stirred the greasy stew. He curled his lip in distaste. "This looks like some swill Éowyn would concoct." 

"Tastes as bad as well," Éomer agreed. "I think the men will not ask the younger Riders to cook any more." 

"So, did he service her?" Elfhelm asked nonchalantly. 

"Yes." 

"Took long enough."

"He was thorough." 

Éomer wiped his hands on his leggings. "I think I'll turn in. I want to get an early start and scout ahead." Nodding to his uncle and Gamling, he got up and ambled towards his bedroll. 

"I think I'll turn in as well." Elfhelm bowed to Théoden and nodded to Gamling before heading off. 

It was quiet for a few moments while Gamling attempted to eat. Finally giving up, he dumped the offensive offering into the fire and set the bowl aside. 

"It was Aefre, wasn't it?" 

"Aye." 

Théoden disposed of his stew as well. "This stuff is wretched. If I didn't know better, I would swear Éowyn made it. Bah!" He propped his elbows on his knees, and cupped his chin on the backs of his hands. "She tried to follow?" 

"Aye. Adenydd was in season and Dréogan knew it." A young Rider brought caffe, heavy, thick and smelling slightly burnt, but hot. The two waited until he left before continuing. 

"You took her back to Dunharrow?" Gamling nodded, sinking his nose into his tankard. "I imagine- BAH! This stuff is as obnoxious as well! Béma, soldiers on campaign must have better rations than this! - I imagine she was not happy about it." 

"I dealt with her." 

Théoden poured the caffe out on the ground. "Please tell me you didn't carry her back, face down over your lap."

"No." The third sip wasn't any better than the first and Gamling poured his out as well. 

"Good. You would have spent weeks getting back into her good graces." Théoden shifted closer to the fire. "I made Elfhild angry once. Spent three days sleeping with Snowmane in the stable." 

Gamling stifled a smile. "The stable is not so bad, sire."

Théoden snorted. "Somehow, I doubt you will ever want to sleep in the stable again!" 

Gamling's smile finally cracked. "You have been ever wise, m'lord." 

Théoden nailed the younger Horse Lord with a steely gaze. "You are mocking me."

Gamling swallowed the wrong way and proceeded to choke. "My lord... no... I..." 

"You are." Théoden continued seriously. "You are mocking me." 

" Sire, no... please..." 

Théoden broke up laughing, and pounded Gamling on the back. "You are too serious!" As quickly as he had begun laughing, Théoden snapped his mouth shut. "Left shoulder, Rider coming up. He has stared at you since your return." 

Sure enough, a highly decorated Rider of an age with Gamling, stepped boldly up to the small campsite. He dipped his head to Théoden and turned to the Marshal. "You are Lord Gamling?" 

"Just Gamling."

The Rider nodded once. "I would speak to you in private, sir." 

Théoden and Gamling exchanged glances. "The man sitting with me is your King, Rider. You may speak freely." 

The man took a deep breath. Théoden had not moved. "Very well," he began slowly. "My name is Ceneden. I was Lufian of the Wold's first in command and I brought Lady Aefre to Edoras at the king's command. I wish to know what your intentions toward her are." 

*** 

Aefre kept herself busy. 

Edoras was huge.

When emptied of able-bodied men and Riders, it echoed strangely, was unusually quiet, women and children speaking in hushed, reverent tones. Nerves were on edge, everyone aware of the simmering pot each one sat on.

Aefre kept herself busy.

While Willan set Gamling and Aefre's bedding and furs to rights, Aefre oversaw the dismantling of the refugee camp. The elderly and infirm were brought into the Golden Hall, set up in group rooms that had once been set aside for the Riders and guests. 

Aefre kept herself busy.

Women, children, Riders unable to make the march to Gondor, were assigned on rotation in the watchtowers. Teens, young women, took turns on horses, riding out to the far reaches of the horizon, keeping watch. 

Aefre kept herself busy.

Every one took turns preparing the soil in the fields; planting was to commence within one week. The few Riders left behind drilled anyone able to lift a sword. 

Aefre kept herself busy.

Young women set snares, tested arrows, brought in hart and conies. Along with the cook, Aefre took stock of the stores, the game, poultry, smoked beef, hanging in the cellars; she took note of the bins of vegetables, fruit, meticulously preserved. 

Aefre kept herself busy.

Aefre, along with the cook, and her two aides, walked through the barnyard, counting...

"This clutch of hens, allow them to sit their eggs..." 

Novices too young for the army sheared sheep, washed the wool and hung it to dry; set it aside to be spun, dyed and carded. Laughing children scraped and curried the horses' rough coats. Stalls were cleaned and freshly sawdusted and strewn with straw. 

Aefre kept herself busy.

Wood was chopped, stockpiled for a winter that might not come. 

Aefre kept herself busy.

She soothed angry feelings, hurt feelings, eased fears. She rocked a tired babe whose mother stood watch on the tower.

She had large fires lit out on the Mark in the night, lighting up the plains, she assigned young people to man them, promising and rewarding them with sweets and pies fresh from the kitchens. 

She had not slept the night before, tossing and turning in her cold bed, its blissful comfort that it had given her in the past, now gone, ridden off, like the Horse Lord whose bed she had shared the night before. 

She spent the day after in a haze, going through the motions of life, of living, worried for Rohan, worried for those left behind. 

Worried for him. 

She stayed busy. Kept herself busy.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun was shining its last rays, Willan found her, in _*his*_ room, ostensibly to hang more tapestries on the walls, put more rugs on the floor. Willan stared wordlessly, dumbfounded, as she flitted from wall to wall. 

"Don't' just stand there, you ninny!" She was unusually curt with the gentle giant. She dragged a chair to the bare wall, "Help me hang this!" 

Bright blue eyes looked down at her, at the wall, the hanging - Rohan's black banner - - - 

Aefre had one foot propped on the chair, stressed beyond even her means. Willan took the wall banner from her, laying it gently on the table, before pulling her into a tight, protective embrace. Aefre stood stiff for a moment before finally melting, clutching at the servant's tunic. "He's coming back!" He squeezed her tighter. "He has to come back!" Despite her refusal to allow it, tears began to flow. "We have unfinished business! We have... stud...fees... to discuss and hammer out. I... I..."

For several long minutes, Willan let her cry it out; let her sob her frustrations, her anger, her despondency into his massive chest. She hadn't intended to be left behind, hadn't planned to be here, while he was there, hadn't counted on not being able to guard and watch his back. As her outrage began to quiet, Willan reached around and plucked Gamling's discarded tunic from the chair. He stepped back and wiped her face with it, before shoving it at her and pointing towards the bed. 

"Willan, there is still dinner to be served, the night's rounds-" 

He shook his head emphatically and pointed again towards the bed. 

"I need to hang the banner-" 

Again, the accusatory finger. 

"Willan! I am not sleeping in Gamling's bed! People will talk!" 

A shrug. _*Who cares?*_ He picked her up and plopped her onto the bed. With a quirked eyebrow, he bowed and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He left her sputtering in anger, her nose dripping, a rumpled tunic in her hands. She scooted to the edge of the huge bed - too big for her alone. She moved to rub her face again with the shirt. 

_\- - - smelled like leather and horses and hay and a slight lingering sweat and earth and wind and-_

_\- smelled like him._

"Béma!" 

Aefre started to wad it up, put it in with the laundry, then decided to take it back to her chambers, before giving up, giving in and staying put in the Horse Lord's chamber. She stepped out of her work dress and shift, kicking them to the corner, before putting on the deep burgundy tunic. The hem fell to mid-calf, the shoulders falling off her; the sleeves were hanging past her fingertips. She giggled once, flapping her hands - 

_***much too big, hanging off me, I look like an enormous, freakish bird. Gamling, how would you laugh at silly Aefre - - -_

_\- - - smells like wind and Gamling and leather and Gamling and Gamling and Gamling... ***_

Aefre dropped the curtain at the window and crawled into the bed, under the furs. She fell into a long, deep, fitful sleep, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and of male scent and dreamt... 

_***Dreamt of a white city, its high towers and battlements and terraces under siege..._

_dreamt of a horde, an army on horseback taking the rise at sun up..._

_dreamt of crashing bodies and arrows and clubs..._

_dreamt of black shadowy winged things, with blood curdling screeches, dreamt of five legged animals, of enormous size, with long white fangs, that tossed horse and Rider into oblivion, like dust; of ghostly, spectral beings that swept the plains like silk over sand..._

_Of silence..._

_Horrible, deafening silence, and then, of weeping, a wail that rose over Rohan..._

_She dreamt of a child, blonde hair that shone red in the sun, on the back of a grey stallion..._

_Laughing..._

_Joyous...***_

She awoke as the red sun rose. 

And fell from the bed, prostrate. 

Praying.

*** 

"Repeat yourself, Rider?" Théoden's voice was terse, clipped. Gamling's facial expression had not changed. 

The Rider - Ceneden - sighed heavily. "I apologize, if I put that badly." 

"If?" 

Ceneden bowed to Théoden. "I apologize to you and your Captain." He nodded to Gamling. "I wish only to know the extent of your relationship with the Lady Aefre." 

Gamling bristled. "I do not see where it would be of concern to you." 

"But it IS of concern to me." He held up a hand warding the high ranked Horse Lord off. "Please, allow me to explain. I brought Lady Aefre to Edoras, for safekeeping. I was her husband Lufian's Captain and I and my men continue to be loyal to him and his wife." Théoden gestured, bidding him to sit down on the rock, so recently vacated by Éomer. "I have known Lady Aefre for almost 25 years, since her teens, when she was betrothed to Lord Lufian."

"Wait," Théoden interrupted, "It was my understanding it was a love match." 

"Oh, it was," Ceneden laughed. "I have never seen a man pursue such a spirited young one. Lady Aefre led him on quite the merry chase. No dainty miss was she." He smiled at that inward thought. "She made him spar with her in the yards, give her no quarter. You did not want to be on the wrong side of her in battle or when she was angry. And yet..." he inhaled, "yet, she could be as soft as... well, the two together were quite the spectacle. Lufian's death shook her, shook all of us to our very core. I do not know how she bore it." He nodded to the pot of caffe. "Fresh?" 

"Swill." 

"Oh." Ceneden shrugged and poured himself a mug anyway. "I have had swill. The reason why I asked your intent was..." He took a drink and made a wretched face before swallowing painfully. "Oh, that IS swill indeed. Not the worst, but close." He poured it out. "Lord Gifre-" he said the name with sarcasm and distaste, "caught us off guard, unawares; there were more of his men than there were of ours, and we were not given time to pack and leave properly. Lady Aefre had to leave with little more than her clothes and a few personal items." He picked up the mug and was fingering it nervously. "I'm telling you this, because if anything happens to me, I don't want it to come to pass that no one should know and Lady Aefre should be left homeless as well as bereft. We - Lufian's men - have kept our ears to the ground, listening, gathering evidence."

"What evidence would that be?" Gamling asked quietly.

The Rider from the Wold was quiet for a moment, gathering words, gathering thoughts. "We can't prove anything," he whispered. "Gifre knows, Eadlyn, Aefre's sister-in-law, knows that Lufian's and Aefre's household are loyal to them. They quieten around us, but we still hear-"

"Spit it out!" Théoden grew impatient.

"Gifre knew Eadlyn, and with possibly her aid, concocted a story about being related to Lufian. The day before the orders came for Riders to gather at Dunharrow, I received word that the only known relative to Lufian that I knew of, had been murdered a week before Gifre showed up on Aefre's doorstep." He leaned in closer to the two Riders. "Gifre is not what he claims to be. He is not related to Lufian's family. In fact, we think he was known to Aefre's brother's wife and as best as we can discern, he purposely took Lady Aefre's land and home with Eadlyn's blessing and aid. Why is anyone's guess. " The man's eyes were glittering in anger in the waning firelight. "Gifre and his men are not here. They went to ground when the orders came, but they knew. Cowards, the lot of them. Aefre would weep if she saw what they have done to her home. Please. I beg you," he beseeched, "if you care for her in the slightest, please make sure what is hers is returned." He grasped the Captain by the wrist, ignoring that the Horse Lord narrowed his eyes in consternation. "She would not give her body lightly. I suspect she gave you her heart as well. If *you* did not care, you would not have returned her to Dunharrow, removed her from the line, nor would you have waited until the line passed to admonish her. I watched," he confided. "As long as I could." The three sat quietly for several moments before Ceneden stood up. "Sire. I am sorry to intrude on you in this manner. I just wanted... someone to know."

"Now, someone does."

The King and the Captain watched as the Rider walked off, a shadow disappearing into the night. Théoden exhaled through his mouth. "You were looking for answers. There you have them."

"Aye." Gamling answered. 

"More questions as well."

"Aye." Gamling continued to contemplate his tankard. 

Théoden stood up, came around behind, and patted him on the shoulder. "Do not strain your eyes. She's safe; safe with Éowyn. Éowyn will take care of Edoras and Rohan and Aefre will advise her. Much as you advise me. Get some rest."

***

They rode throughout the day, taking a long break late in the afternoon, when Éomer returned from meeting scouts sent ahead the night before.

"Minas Tirith is under siege; the Orcs are bringing heavy artillery and battering rams from Mordor. They will not last long," he confided to Théoden.

"Then it is settled. We ride through the night."

Over open plains, with only the light of the stars and moon to light their way, the Rohirrim rode. In the darkest deep of the night, before sunrise, they heard the noise, the swarm, could smell the fire, the sounds of war carrying on the night wind.

As the sun peered over the edge of the Ephel Duath - The Mountains of Shadow, smoke now visible over the plains before the White City, the Rohirrim crested the rise.

*****


	19. 18 - Forth Eorlingas

_Hige sceal þe heardra, heorte þe cenre,  
mod sceal þe mare þe ure maegen lytlað. _

*** 

 

There would come a time and a day when Gamling would remember clearly the horror of cresting the ridge and seeing the enormous horde attacking the fabled city of Minas Tirith. 

Today was not that day. 

There would come a time and a place where he would remember the smell, the stench of Orc and fire and blood rising from Pelennor Fields. 

Today was not that day. 

There would come a time when he would remember the blood rising, his adrenaline cresting as Théoden King called the Rohirrim to arms. 

Now was not that time. 

There would come an hour when he would remember the pride of being told to follow the King's banner, down the center, leading one third of the Éorlings into battle, now the Marshal behind Rohan's ruler. 

Now was not that hour. 

In the days, weeks, months, years, to come, he would clearly remember his sight going red; he would understand explicitly the meaning of 'berserking'. 

He would remember the wind rushing through his hair. 

He would remember the battle cries of the Rohirrim. 

He would remember the joy of watching the entire Orc army, regrouping, taking their attention from the city, and turning it to the Horse Lords bearing down on them. 

He would remember the sound of Dréogan screaming, as he bore his Rider into the thick of the fray. 

He would remember the sound of his sword as he pulled it from its scabbard and would remember the feel of the ribband wound around his sword hand. For a fleeting moment, he would remember the woman back in Edoras; she made him angrier than a sudden thunderstorm, softer than a goose feather pillow, harder than the granite that lined the river of his youth, and made him sigh with unending comfort. For a scant second, he could hear her voice... _*Just Gamling*..._ for that fleeting moment, he was glad he caught her, glad she was safe in Edoras, with Éowyn, glad she was not being subjected to this.   
He would remember the sound of arrows whizzing past his ear, remember the fury he felt when a surface cut appeared on Dréogan's flank, and Dréogan's responding scream of burning pain and anger. In time, he would know that Rohirrim fell behind him. 

He would understand on the morrow, that the reason his throat was sore, was due to the battle cry, which issued, unendingly from his mouth. 

He would remember basking in satisfaction for a blink of an eye, as the Orcs backed up, dropping their weapons. 

He would remember seeing Théoden disappear into a sea of Orc rabble. 

And following. 

There would come a time when he would remember Dréogan bunching under him, feeling him angle, leap up and over, hooves lashing out, rushing headlong into the rabble of Orcs, feeling them fall beneath his stallion's hooves. 

He would remember the gloating he felt at seeing the fear on the Orcs' faces as they realized they were no longer winning; that Gondor was no longer alone, that aid had come in the form of armed men on creatures with angry hooves, snorting steam and blood. He would remember the rush of adrenalin as the Orcs turned and ran. 

Ran and scattered like the scuttling cockroaches they were. 

At this moment, he did not remember any of this. 

There would come a second, a snap of the fingers, when he would remember hearing the horns of the Haradrim... 

Hearing their singing, chanting... 

The Mûmakil... 

In time, he would remember dismounting, following Théoden's orders, to sound the horn, to regroup the Rohirrim... 

_***Reform the line reform the line...***_

He would never remember pulling his bow from his saddle, would not remember grabbing a handful of arrows from his quiver. He would remember the tautness, the pull of the string, the vibration as he released the arrow and nocked the next... 

_***bring it down bring it down bring it down...***_

At some moment in time, he would remember seeing the crazy Rohirrim that rode beneath one mûmak, a sword in each hand... 

But right now, that memory did not register. 

Someday, someone would tell him of Éomer, spear in hand, throwing it, bringing down the front rider, effectively taking out not only the mûmak and its accompanying contingent of archers, but the one next to it as well. 

_***bring it down bring it down bring it down...***_

In time, he would remember the fear he felt as he remounted and charged the Haradrim line. He would remember watching Horse and Rider being swept aside, flying through the air, as the Haradrim and their beasts advanced and decimated the lines of the Horse Lords. 

He had been correct; the wailing in Rohan would be unrivaled. 

In the days to come, he would remember the disbelief that he had survived the initial line of the Haradrim; that he lived to turn and attack once again. He would remember the dread he felt as he rode beneath one of the giant monsters, realizing it was Ceneden beside him for a scant second before hearing the Rider's bones crunch as he and his destrier were stepped on... 

_***Béma take you swiftly on his wings...***_

...crushed into the dirt...trusting Dréogan to shift and feint, as he aimed upwards... 

_***bring it down bring it down bring it down...***_

...barely clearing its underbelly as it fell. 

For years, well into his old age, when he pulled his chair closer and closer to the fire for warmth, he would delve into his memory, try to remember how he had become so far separated from his king... 

He would remember the Ring Wraith flying over and landing, he would remember seeing Snowmane flying, knowing, knowing, knowing Théoden flew with him. He would remember trying to cut through the hordes of downed Haradrim, the returning Orcs, cursing, damning each and every one that stood between him and his lord. 

He would remember the lone Rider who stood up between the Wraith and the king. 

Seeing the morningstar. 

And realizing in horror that the Rider was no man. 

In time, he would remember the screeching of the Army of the Dead, grateful that Aragorn had finally arrived. 

In time, the battle would end and he would well remember it all. Every grisly, wretched detail. 

But now was not the time. 

For this moment, the only thing he was aware of was the feel of the broken body of his king in his arms- 

_***if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall...***_

-the desolate feeling that he had failed his liege... 

...and the sound of Éomer, screaming. 

***   
_  
Translation:  
the Rohirrim (?): 'Will shall be the sterner, heart the bolder,   
spirit the greater as our strength lessens.' _


	20. 19 - To be or not to be... King

_Additional reminder disclaimer: This is MOVIEVERSE! (Even though I'm reaching a point where I'm going to have to start following canon a little more closely.) And in the EE of ROTK, the Tree of Gondor is trying to bloom before Aragorn's return._

 

 

****

Rider of the Mark 19 

****

To be or not to be... King. 

*** 

Five days after Aragorn released the Army of the Dead, Gamling found Éomer standing at the top of Minas Tirith, over the battlement where Denethor had taken his last, fiery plunge. The new King stared over the devastation that was Pelennor Fields. 

"Éomer." 

"What?" the new king asked dully. 

Gamling breathed in heavily. "How fares your sister?" 

Éomer didn't turn back, didn't look at the newly raised Marshal. "She will live." He blew out of his mouth. "Thank Béma, she will live." He shook his head, continuing to watch the living scavenge through the corpses, identifying, finding life still clinging among the dead. "I don't know if I should beat her or hug the very life from her scrawny body!" 

Gamling remembered back... was it a week?... before, when he had wanted to do the one, but had done the other instead to Aefre. "As much as you desire to throttle her, best to hold her close. You almost lost her." 

"Aye." Although he had his back to the Horse Lord, Gamling could hear the smile in Éomer's voice. "Uncle said to listen to you first and heed your counsel. You give good advice." Éomer's voice hitched and he coughed in an attempt to cover and stifle his show of grief. 

Considering his outpouring of anguish on the field upon finding Éowyn’s body barely clinging to life, Gamling was surprised the young King had anything left. "I... uh... found Firefoot wandering. I stabled him with Dréogan and tended to his injuries." 

"Thank you. Bad?" 

Gamling shrugged. "Mostly surface cuts. He was armored well." He saw no need to tell Éomer of the partial Orc skull imbedded in his mount's rear hoof. Dréogan had Orc hair and blood splatterings as well. He had carefully bathed both, washing the gore from their horses' bodies and armor. "I have seen to Théoden's body." 

"Please tell me you did not burn-" 

"NO!" Gamling spat. "He has been interred with their Kings until we can return him to Rohan." It was quiet for a few moments. "I buried Snowmane as well." 

"I am glad. I could not bear it had they burned him." Éomer sighed and relaxed slightly. "I hate it that they are burning our dead." They watched as yet another pile of bodies were set afire. "Would that we could carry them home and bury them to singing and toasting as they deserve." Éomer wrinkled his nose at the smell wafting from the field; the stench of burning flesh would linger on the air for weeks. "But there is no other choice. Have you-" 

"We have removed all identifying Marks from the dead." Gamling pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his own stone, with his name, house, and city etched on it. "I have told the survivors to wash them, clean them as best as possible." 

"Good idea. Their widows and children do not need to see-" 

"No." Gamling interrupted the young king, his mind equally abhorred at the thought of families seeing hard evidence of the gore and brutality of their loved ones' death. "I will be sending several messengers back to Edoras as soon as possible with the identifying stones and a list of the known injured." 

Save one. In the hand with Aefre's ribband still wound around it, he clutched Ceneden's stone. Gamling had searched long and hard to find the ruins of man and horse, for he felt he owed it to the brave Rider. Although he was no Rohirrim Holy Man, Gamling had blessed the body - what was left of it - and sworn to care for Aefre. Gamling had decided to take this mark back to her personally and get to the bottom of Gifre and his perfidy. It had been obvious that Ceneden had been devoted to the memory of his Lord and his Lord's wife and knowing Aefre, she would be upset. Gamling was determined that she would not grieve alone; would have someone - him - to comfort her. 

" 'Tis not over." Éomer interrupted the Marshal's thoughts. He gestured across to Mordor, to the tower where the Eye was barely visible, an evil glow against a blackened sky. "Aragorn says Sauron is emptying Mordor, all his minions march on Gondor. Frodo still lives and walks within sight of the Great Eye. We are to create a diversion at the Black Gate. 

_***Wonderful. More deaths, more killing, more empty stones to send to Rohan.***_

It was time. Gamling placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, to draw it out. 

"Sire-" 

"Don't call me that!" 

Gamling exhaled. He had hoped this would be easier, but Éomer was not going to cooperate. "My Lord-" 

"Nor that!" Éomer turned on him, fury and grief evident in his face. "I'm not ready! It is too soon! Do no-" 

"My Liege!" Gamling drew himself up to his full height, standing nose to nose with the Rohirrim King, "Your men need you. Rohan needs you. You sister needs you! There will be a time to grieve, a time to mourn our losses, your uncle, but even by your own admission, now is not the time!" He stepped back and unsheathed his sword. 

Going down on one knee, he offered up the blade. "I pledge my fealty, my allegiance to you, Éomer, King of Rohan. I ask that you use me as you see fit. My sword, my horse, my very life are yours." It was quiet for a minute, Gamling on one knee, head bowed, sword arm outstretched. Finally- 

"Rise." There was a feather-light touch on his shoulder. "I accept your fealty, my friend." There was a gentle stress on the last two words. Gamling stood and resheathed his sword. "Tell me, will all give me that pledge?" 

"No." Gamling looked up at the young King and shook his hair from his eyes. "They will pledge fealty to Rohan and her King. My pledge was as my father taught me." 

For the first time in days, Éomer truly smiled. "And you will teach it to your son." 

"If Béma so blesses." 

"So blesses? Old man, if you keep after Aefre the way you obviously did in Dunharrow, the way she was calling your name... Edoras will be crawling with Horse Lordlets and Shield Toddlers..." 

"Éomer!" Gamling was curt. "Aefre was-" 

_***babybabybabywithbrownbrowneyes and...***_

"-married for a long time and bore no children. Not that it matters to me." 

"Gamling!" Éomer winked. "Perhaps it was her husband's fault!" He stepped around the Horse Lord. "I've known a stallion or two in my day who couldn't sire a single colt no matter the fertility of the mare! I'm going to check on Firefoot. Shall I stop by the kitchens and take Dréogan an apple?" 

_***babybabybabyspoilmyhorsewillyoudammitdammit***_

"He will follow you everywhere." 

"Ah, is that your secret? I'll have to remember that. Apples! He can be bribed with apples! So be it!" Éomer started to leave, but thought twice. "Gamling?" The Marshal had taken Éomer's post, overlooking the battlefield. "You took Aefre back to Dunharrow, didn't you? I thought that might be the reason - you would not have turned back for anyone other than her." 

"Aye." 

Like a whisper on the wind, the King was at his shoulder. "If I discover that Aefre aided Éowyn in her folly in any way, if she knew Éowyn and that Hobbit had joined the Éorlings, I shall be most displeased." 

Gamling's stony gaze never left the field. "Éowyn and Aefre were not the only women to come disguised as Riders." The Marshal nodded towards the field. "I have lost count of the Shield Maidens among the dead and injured." 

"I know." Éomer's hand settled on Gamling's well-armored shoulder. "Still-" 

"You would have to go through me." 

Éomer's smile was almost jovial. "That serious?" 

Gamling's hand clenched around the ribband, "Aye." 

Éomer nodded satisfactorily. "Uncle would be pleased." He turned and strode away, the White Tree of Gondor struggling to blossom behind him. 

_***hmmmm... one dumpy, mouthy princess for you... now where oh where to find her...***_

*** 

Black and rolling clouds, like plumes of smoke, were ominous in the south. Lurid lightning flashes fractured the sky. 

They matched Aefre's mood. 

She stood in the watchtower, a boy of eight summers and one of twelve standing next to her, keeping watch. She was in a tunic and leggings and was sweaty from her work out with several young women on the training field. She tore her attention from the southern sky and looked out into the fields. Signaling the bell ringer, she watched as the last shift began to make their way in from the field; the dirt was tilled, manure and shavings were now being turned into the soil, fertilizing, enriching the earth. Aefre decided to let no field lie fallow this season, if anything it would keep the Rohirrim left behind busy an extra few days. Nervous laughter floated up from the ground and Aefre looked down to see several women, clad similarly to herself, heading towards the baths. They were proud, tough, these women. 

_*If Gondor falls and evil comes our way, they will not raze a helpless community*_

Mentally, Aefre rolled through the list of missing women - chambermaids, daughters of Horse Lords, Riders; Éowyn had not ridden alone, she smirked. The King's niece was in good company of Shield Maidens. Aefre recalled with fondness her Gondorian grandmother and mother, sitting at their knees, learning gentle arts. 

Trying to learn, at least. 

Needle and thread escaped her, her stitches uneven and large, not the fine, dainty things of her maternal side. 

"Wild things!" her grandmother would whisper, admonish Aefre's mother. "You had to fall in love with a Wild Thing." 

"I fell in love with a man, mother." 

"Aye." The elderly woman would smile, twinkle even. "You fell in love with a man with glorious hair, and an amazing horse! Aefre!" While her voice was sharp, it was filled with love. "You watch how he treats his horse. If a man is cruel to his horse, he is not worth snuggling or keeping warm at night!" 

"Mother!" 

"What?" 

Aefre's mother was beet-red. "You'll fill her head with such nonsense!" 

Aefre lost her mother to a lung ailment the next winter; her grandmother moved to her home away from Aefre's father, and Aefre had learned bedroom arts hiding in cupboards, behind draperies, listening to the chambermaids. 

Listening to her husband. 

_***I cannot read your mind, Aefre. Tell me what you like and I'll teach you how to make me beg...***_

For the first time since his death, she was not filled with longing or sadness at the thought of him. A dusting of yellow pollen wafted across the bell tower, the color of Lufian's hair. As it drifted away, it dissipated, turning invisible in the air. 

Sighing in resignation, she sent the younger of the two boys to the Hall for his evening meal, thanking him for keeping such good watch on the tower. She then turned to the elder of the two. 

"The sun is setting and I am going to take a turn lighting the bonfires at the edge of the horizon. If you ride, you may go with me." 

"My father was a Horse Lord! One of Théoden King's personal knights!" the boy said stiffly. "Of course I can ride!" 

"Ah." The two headed down the ladder. "Another one whose father has... wait. You said 'was'." Aefre stopped and waited for they youngster to join her on the ground. 

"My father was killed during the exodus to Helm's Deep." The boy swallowed heavily and he looked off into the distance, obviously trying to regain control. Aefre touched him on the arm and nodded with her head for him to follow her into the stables. Quietly, they saddled their mounts, Adenydd stomping, wanting exercise. Before mounting, Aefre retrieved fire starters, kindling as well as a water skin and some deer strips. Dinner would be over when they returned, although they were likely to find some leftovers waiting for them in the kitchens. It would almost be dark by the time they reached the first bonfire site. Slowly, the two made their way out, riding south. The boy said nothing, although Aefre hoped he was who she thought he was. The sun was down and they had lit the third pyre before the boy finally asked, "Why are we doing this?" 

Aefre stepped back and looked to the North, around the side of Edoras. Two others were lighting pyres and she watched one to up in flames. "Several reasons. It lights up the Riddermark, guiding Riders home as well as aiding those who keep watch at night to see further." 

"Keeps the Orcs and the Mountain men away." 

Smart one, this one. "No sneak attacks, Haleth. We'll see them coming." 

They rode in silence to the next pyre. The following morning, groups would go into the wooded areas and bring more wood to pile up and prepare for burning that night. It would- 

"I would think you did it to keep us busy." 

VERY smart, this one. "Aye. That too, Haleth." 

They finished their part of the circle, fully dark now and lit the last pyre before heading back.   
"You know my name. How? I have not met you before." 

Aefre stopped, the heat of the fire at her back. "I guessed." She smoothed the child's hair back. "Soon, you will be putting this back in a proper braid and will start your Rider training. Your father will look down upon you with pride." 

Haleth looked up at her, a hopeful gleam in his eye. "You think so?" 

"I know so." She released him and mounted Adenydd. Slowly they headed back towards the fires of Edoras. "Haleth? Where have you been? Gamling has been very worried." 

"He has?" The child's voice hitched a bit. "He would be. He was Da's best friend." It was quiet for a moment before he continued. "I stayed at Helm's Deep. I couldn't bear the trip back to Edoras, knowing that... that... over a hill..." 

"It's all right, Haleth. I understand." It was well whispered that when the Riders finally returned to gather the dead from the Warg attack after Helm's Deep, there had been precious little left to claim. The Riders had finally collected their identifying stones and left the remains in a nearby cave, piling stones to seal the entrance and leaving a marker. 

"Anyway, I stayed, aiding in the clean up and restocking. When word came for all to gather at Dunharrow, I rode with the men to the encampment and then returned to Edoras by another path." He was quiet again for a moment for continuing. "I suppose that makes me a coward." 

"No, Haleth. It does not." 

"I wanted to go," he rushed on. "To Gondor, that is. But the men said I was too young. The Halfling got to go. I saw him." Haleth groused. "Lady Éowyn did as well. She is not in Edoras. She had to have gone. I wanted to fight. I fought at Helm's Deep," his voice trailing away in a whisper. "I would have gone." 

"I'm glad you didn't. Rohan will need good Riders still." They were nearing the front gate and Aefre called out to have them opened. 

"Lady Aefre?" 

"Yes?" 

"If anything happens to Gamling, I'll have no one." 

"Yes you will, Haleth," she stated boldly, as they entered the gates. "You'll have me." 

***   
tbc   
***


	21. 20 - Growling Riders in the Sky

****

Rider of the Mark 20 

****

Growling Riders in the Sky 

*** 

There was a hanging garden of sorts on the upper balconies of the Houses of Healing. Apparently, the Gondorian architects had decided that beautiful and pleasant smelling growing things aided recuperation and rehabilitation. Medicinal herbs grew alongside floral arrangements in pots, spilling over the edges of planters. 

Not only was it easy on the eyes, it helped to cover the stench of burning timbers and bodies. 

_*** Aefre would love this. She would glory in the sweetness and the beauty of this. Perhaps, when this war is over and all is peaceful and when Éomer can spare me time, I'll bring her here and- ***_

"You do not have to stand guard over me, Gamling." Éowyn looked up and over her shoulder at the tall man behind her, from the bench where she sat, bringing him out of his musings. 

"I do, milady. If I do not, surely you would armor and saddle up and attempt to join us on our campaign to the Black Gate." 

Éowyn winced, whether it was at his words - although they were spoken with an underlying tone of rare humor and fondness from the man, or whether it was the pain in her arm, still wrapped with unguent-smeared cloths. Her fingertips were still tinged with blue. "I do not think I will be going anywhere soon." She smiled at the Horse Lord and turned to look out over the landscape. Black clouds rolled, churning, the sickly yellow glow of Barad-dur casting eerie lighting on the clouds. "I am too weak to mount up, much less pull a sword." She inspected her wrapped hand. "I couldn't even grasp a child's knife." Reluctantly, she turned to the Marshal standing behind her. "Ah... Hengist..." 

_***Found, gutted, slaughtered, only recognizable by the armor made by your order...***_

"I have searched the stables. He is nowhere to be found. I would not hold out hope." 

"Oh." Éowyn dropped her eyes sadly. "You wouldn't tell me if you found him dead, anyway." She tapped him with her good hand on his chest plate. "You, for all your gruffness and cantankerousness, have a kind heart." 

Gamling leaned down, closer to the young Shield Maiden. "Do not tell a soul. Or I will be forced to tell your brother that I caught you kissing Galan in the stable last summer." 

Éowyn’s jaw dropped. "You did no such thing! You wouldn't dare, you-" 

"I was very quiet and you were very preoccupied." 

"Why... why... you..." Éowyn sputtered and leaned back away from him. "I feel so very sorry for Aefre," she mumbled. 

"If your brother discovers that she aided you in this folly, aye, you should feel very sorry for her." 

Éowyn paled. "I would not be left behind." 

"No. Not you." 

_***and at least thirty others that I know of. Bodies. Every. One.***_

"Gamling?" Éowyn was now facing him, chin held up in defiance. "Please tell me you did not harm Aefre when you returned her to Dunharrow." 

The wind rustled through the leaves of the flowering plants. "Do you think I would?" 

"You were very angry. And you are known to be harsh. Just, but harsh." 

Gamling had taken Dréogan out that morning for a short ride, stretching and working muscles that had no doubt been sore - his and his horse's. He slowly removed his right riding glove, flexing his hand and revealing a grimy, filthy ribband. He inspected it closely, knowing Éowyn did as well and recognized it. "Tell me again. Do you think I would harm her?" He held his breath until she answered, her pale hand covering his. 

"No. I don't think you would. You really should wash this before the next battle." 

Gamling slowly put his glove back on. "You have a watcher." 

Over to the right stood a tall young man, overlooking the terrace. Éowyn smiled- 

_***gently? GENTLY? Dammit! Dammit! Éomer will shite rocks!...***_

\- gently. "That is Steward Denethor's last surviving son. Faramir." 

"He has a dark look." 

Éowyn smacked him playfully on the arm with her good hand. "I think he looks kind." 

"Nevertheless," and with this, Gamling stepped to her side, between her and the so-called Steward of Gondor, "I will stay and keep watch until you tire-" 

"I am afraid," there was humorous steel in her voice, "my brother has more need of you than I do." Éowyn nodded in the opposite direction. Gamling turned to see Éomer striding purposefully toward the two. 

"And how is my prettiest sister?" The new king of Rohan's voice boomed throughout the enclosed terrace and he leaned over to envelop her in a bear hug. 

"I'm your only sister, you dolt!" Despite her irate words, she returned the embrace, as best she could. 

"Dolt?" Éomer feigned hurt feelings. "My beloved sister called me 'a dolt.' You've been spending too much time with Aefre. I'll have to have Gamling have a word with her." 

_*** Or two or three or thousands upon thousands. Won't work; she's still stubborn.***_

Éomer's devotion to his sister had been well-known among the Rohirrim, but now it was also obvious to the men of Gondor and Belfalas. Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth had watched the young king with keen interest and had quietly questioned Aragorn of not only of his marriageable status, but the status of the Rohirric lands and the stability and strengths of its people. 

"Come, Éowyn. Back to bed for you. I need to talk to Gamling and I don't want you out and about." 

"I'm fine." Éowyn used her brother's strong arms to rise and then removed herself from his embrace. "You go on. If I need help, I'll call for it." she cast a side glance to where the Gondorian soldier stood and moved away, down to the opposite side of the terrace, away from her brother and his Marshal. Éomer did not miss the glances his sister had sent in the direction of the Gondorian soldier in the shadows, seeing it in the coyness and flirtatiousness many a woman had sent him. 

He scowled over in the man's direction. "Is that-" 

"Faramir." 

"Hmm." He leaned in and whispered to Gamling, "Is he giving her looks back?" 

"Yes." 

"Damn!" Éomer scowled. "We are at war! This is no time for romance or-" 

He stopped at Gamling's raised brow. "Well, you are older and need-" 

He stopped at Gamling's OTHER raised eyebrow. "Béma! Gamling! She's my sister! She's all I---" 

Éomer's voice trailed off as it dawned on him what he was about to say and he snapped his mouth shut. 

"Leave it be." Gamling clapped him on the shoulder. "Where are we to meet Elfhelm?" 

"He is to meet us, along with Aragorn, the Elf Twins, Imrahil and Gandalf in half an hour in the East wing to plan our attack and diversion. We will need to rouse the Rohirrim and relay our plan." He scrunched his face in thought. "They *are* behaving themselves, aren't they?" 

"As well as can be expected." 

The two Horse Lords slowly began to make their way from the terrace in the general direction of Faramir, who had now stepped from the shadows and was standing out in the open. His movements were slow, stiff. 

Indeed, Éomer was shocked to see the man up and moving around. He had seen him so near death when he had visited Éowyn early upon her admission to the Healing Houses. 

"You know what to do?" It was whispered in Rohirric. 

"Aye." 

The two sped up their pace, echoing bootfalls in tandem, bearing down on the lone soldier. As they reached him, they split, Éomer to one side of the man; Gamling to the other. 

While they did not touch Faramir, the breeze from their cloaks could be felt. As they passed, each looked down at the man. 

Éomer growled 

Gamling growled. 

They continued, boots clicking in tandem, as they moved down the hall and around the corner before Éomer husked, "While we may have a few Rohirrim coming home with Gondorian brides when this is over, that one will have to prove the mettle he is made from before he sniffs around my sister!" 

_***Methinks you are fighting a losing battle, Éomer king!***_

Faramir held his smile and his breath until the two impressive Horse Lords passed, and waited until their footfalls died away. Slowly, he released it and took another, calming, cleansing one. 

"Éomer, King of Rohan," he thought to himself. “If that's how you wish to play this, so be it." 

*** 

"Lady Aefre, you need to speak to the cook. This hart is over-cooked." 

"Lady Aefre, I hung the linens out. Surely, someone else can bring it in." 

"Lady Aefre, I worked n the East Field until sundown and then was up with the dawn patrol. Could you possibly spare me this evening?" 

"Lady Aefre, these two filthy urchins had a mud battle where the bed clothing was hung. What should we do with them?" 

"Lady Aefre, you must put Aislynne and Reinowynne on different tasks! Too often, I catch them getting into mischief and not paying attention to the task at hand." 

"Lady Aefre? Someone let the chickens out." 

"Lady Aefre. Garth did not grain the horses properly." 

"Lady Aefre, someone should teach Beornia to make a bed properly!" 

"Lady Aefre, you must put the black and white cow with the bull or there will be no end to her complaining! She is moaning and switching her tail-" 

"Lady Aefre, I have a wart on my nose. Surely someone has cursed me!" 

"Lady Aefre, Diera has gone into labor-" 

"Lady Aefre, I mucked the stalls two days in a row. It is someone else's turn!" 

"Lady Aefre-" 

"Lady Aefre-" 

"Lady Aefre-" 

"Lady Aefre-" 

Aefre sat, staring blankly into the hearth. The hour was late and every muscle in her body ached, yet she knew she would get no rest this night. For days, the tension level had been rising in Edoras, everyone watching the sky turn bleaker and blacker, lightning roaming and glowing eerily. Nerves were on edge, women who had been best of friends since the cradle were now arguing, cat-fighting over silly, stupid things. Aefre bore the scratches on her arm, breaking up one such fight. Both women were now doing extra chores on opposite sides of the city - one peeling potatoes for the morning meal, the other boiling water to wash linens. Even her own temper was short; she had caught a child of five summers turning the hens loose and she had pulled him by the ear to the cook to scrub pots. She had gone as far as to slam the door to Gamling's chambers in the cook's face after the over-bearing, nosy woman had asked her why she had taken residence in chambers that did not belong to her. 

A cup of tea was set down on the small table next to the chair she sat in. 

"Thank you, Willan." Her gaze never left the grate. "Do you have a shoulder and an ear to lend, my friend?" She heard, rather than saw him pull a chair up. She did see the mug of ale he set down for himself. "And none for me?" she grinned sardonically. 

Willan shrugged. _*Aye.*_

Aefre took a sip from the cup. "What am I going to do? I know they are missing their men, their sons. I know their daughters and sisters have sneaked off to ride with them and many will not return. Cynn's only daughter took his name mark and rode. She is only seventeen summers and Cynn is worried sick! So am I." She took another sip. "I’m worried for Cynn, for his daughter, for all of them. Éomer. Éowyn. Théoden King." There was a short pause. "Gamling." 

_***Just Gamling...***_

"They can't see beyond their own noses, their own feelings. What do we do if Gondor falls? What do we do if the enemy invades Rohan? Do we scatter? Give in to slavery? I can't get them to work together, how can I get them to fight together? I cannot sleep in my bed, yet I dream dark dreams in his! Horrid beasts, misshapen men, spectral beings. I dream of a dark gate, things, wretched things, pouring from it; a mountain that spews fire. And there are so few Riders! Willan, how can they overcome that? How can they win? Wilda and Rowena argue over who did the most chores! How can they be so dense? I am tempted to work them to the bone, but if we are attacked, they will be too tired to fight or run! We cannot retreat to Helm's Deep. Where do we run?" Aefre drained the cup and stared into the cold hearth. "Your mother was versed in the old ways, wasn't she, Willan?" 

He nodded. 

"How much did you put in my tea?" 

The mute held his fingers together. *A pinch.* Willan stood up and came around to stand behind her. Strong, yet gentle hands began to knead, work the tension from her body. 

"You need a wife, Willan." Aefre relaxed into the restrained power working her neck. "You are too beautiful a man in many ways to walk alone." She did not see the flash of pain and loneliness cross his features. Finally, he patted her shoulders and moved in front of her. 

"I should be angry with you. Very angry." 

_Shrug._

"I should have known, when you brought me tea and ale for yourself!" 

Willan held out his hand, pulling her up, and moved her towards the bed. As she stood, leaning tiredly against the post, he held out another of Gamling's tunics, a fresher one that still smelled like the Rider she desired. Aefre waited until the door whispered shut before changing and crawling in between the blankets of the now familiar bed. 

*** 

"Rouse the Rohirrim!" 

Gamling stormed through the barracks assigned to the Horse Lords by Aragorn. Their numbers had been severely cut, Éomer himself shocked at the number of Rohirrim women counted among the living. 

And the dead. 

It was horrific enough to return the identification marks of fallen men, but someone, himself included, would be returning stolen marks to fathers, grandfathers. 

_***If I live***_

Lorhilde, the blacksmith's daughter, was among those in the Houses of Healing. She was not wounded very badly and it had taken every ounce of self control Gamling had to keep from lashing out at her. She was her father's joy; Gamling remembered her well as a toddler - not so long ago - how the man had doted on her. She had been as bright as a copper coin, but now, her eyes were haunted, her thoughts, churning on the horrors of death and gore. Rather than give her the tongue-lashing she so deserved, Gamling ended up holding her, hugging her tightly as she cried; cried for the ones riding next to her who died, cried for her first love, who had not been found, cried for her father, how worried, how angry he would be; she wanted to go home. 

_***not quite yet, little one...***_

For days, street urchins trailed him, taken in by his distinctive cloak. They wanted to see his horse, Éomer's horse, anyone's horse; was it true the Rohirrim horses were descended from the Mearas and snorted fire and ate Orcs and disobedient children? 

_***Béma! What some parents tell their children to make them behave!***_

Eomer had taken the mantle of kingship, taken the reins of leading the Rohirrim with a ferocity that the remaining Men of the Riddermark had been drawn to follow. Éomer's temper was well-known and Gamling knew full well he was feeding from the energy of his anger and anguish. Éomer would grieve quietly, away from his men, in the darkness of his chambers, but he would mourn in due time. Bur for now... 

For now, there was another battle to fight, another battle to survive, to live through. Time, time for the Hobbit, so deep in Mordor. And if he survived... 

_***if I survive... if I should fall if I should fall if I should fall...***_

... he would see Cynn's daughter home, to her father's embrace and he himself would squeeze Aefre tight until she squirmed. 

_Rouse the Rohirrim! Armor yourselves! We ride to the Black Gate; to Slag Hills. Ride! Forth Eorlingas!_

*** 

On the thirteenth morning, Aefre was thrown from the bed. 

The Earth was shaking. 

***   
tbc   
***


	22. 21 - The Wailing of Rohan

****

Rider of the Mark 21 

****

The Wailing of Rohan 

***   
Gamling was glad of the silence. He couldn't have borne it had the place been bustling with healers and movers and men and women. He had snarled and cursed in Rohirric at the young man who had attempted to aid him earlier, causing the Gondorian to turn ashen white before backing off, and mumbling apologies at the unintended and misunderstood slight. He was glad to have been given this time to prepare and finalize... 

_***... make sure the vambraces, the greaves, the breastplate, the cloak, the helm, every article of armor and clothing lay properly, placed just right...***_

He had been Théoden's armorer, his most trusted aide. Who better to make sure of the final fittings and placement of Théoden's burial clothing than he? 

Aragorn - no, now _*Elessar*_ \- had insisted that half of the honor guard surrounding Théoden's body, while it lay in state, be Gondorian. Théoden had died valiantly, defending Men, defending Gondor. It was Gondor's duty to share in guarding the deceased King of Rohan's body until it was to be borne home. How better to show gratitude? 

Éomer was not inclined to disagree. 

A drop of water appeared on Théoden's chest plate. With a growl of impatience, Gamling wiped it off. When a second drop appeared on the shoulder, he looked to the ceiling, searching for the leak in the room. It was then he realized his vision was blurred; his eyes blinded with tears. Giving in at last, Gamling, son of Gamhelm, sank to his knees, to openly grieve for the man who was second only to his father. 

*** 

The sun was up. 

Aefre knew it was; it had to be... 

... somewhere behind the black clouds. 

The bonfires had burned out, but it was too dark to seek out more kindling. If anything, the deepening dark and the earthquake of that morning had brought about an immediate cessation of hostilities between the inhabitants of Edoras. 

Feuds hours, days, weeks, years old were forgotten, smoothed over; apologies were whispered, mumbled, shouted. The horses were warily subdued, quiet except for Adenydd, who suddenly kicked and screamed, frightening the stable boys, refusing to eat, until Aefre was sent for. As a last resort, Aefre freed her beloved mare into the main thoroughfare in the stable, only to watch in bewilderment as her usually sweet-tempered horse made an angry dash to the stall next to hers, demanding to be let in. 

Dréogan's stall. 

She gazed, fascinated, as Adenydd pawed at the old sawdust and straw, kicking it up and finally rolling in it before settling down. She looked at her mistress and the stable hands as if they were half mad. With a grin, Aefre entered the stall and hugged her horse around the neck. 

"I should have known. You're missing your stallion as much as I miss his Rider." The mare nuzzled her, nickering softly and nudging Aefre's stomach with her velvet nose. "We are a pair, aren't we? At least they are a matched set as well." She gave Adenydd's muzzle a loving pat before signaling for the boy to bring her feed and water to the new stall. 

"Madam... Lady Aefre... that is Captain Gamling's-" 

"I KNOW who the stall belongs to. Is he here?" 

"Nay." 

"Are you going to tell him?" 

The boy's eyes lit in fear. "No! Not me! I-" 

"We will make sure it is vacated and cleaned upon his return. I'm sure we will have plenty of warning before our King and his Army arrive!" 

_***At least, we will have plenty of warning of someone or something coming***_

And so it went. 

No fields were plowed or tilled that day. There were no mock battles, no swordplay. Quietly, those able to climb the towers, the ramparts, searched the horizon. They perused the murky dawn, cloudy day, dusky twilight, searching for signs, for clues, for any moving object. 

Aefre had declared no one was to leave the walls, not while the sky churned with such malevolent clouds overhead. They were hushed, noiseless, doing chores in silence. 

Until after dinner had been cleared from the Hall. 

"Something has happened!" Cynn, the blacksmith stood, massive arms crossed over an equally massive chest. While his voice boomed over murmuring Rohirrim, his eyes were frightened; he blinked back tears. His only daughter, the very apple of his eye, had taken his own identifying mark and stolen off into the night, with her horse and her youngest brother's old hand - me - down armor and weapons. 

Aefre looked over the crowded, bustling Hall. The younger children had been run ragged, stuffed full of food and sent to bed, enabling the adults to speak candidly. "Aye," she agreed. "But it does not mean a bad thing-" 

"LADY AEFRE!!" The cook bellowed. "You've seen the clouds, the sky. 'Tis not a GOOD thing!" Murmurs of agreement flowed through the crowd. 

"Lady Aefre-" 

"Lady Aefre-" 

"Lady Aefre-" 

"I will not bellow like a harridan over this crowd!" Aefre's powerful voice was raised. She did not have to scream. She waited for the group to quiet down. "Listen. It's been fourteen days. This is a good thing, a very good thing. We've not seen hide or hair of an Orc or a Dunlending. So we should bless Béma for our good fortune. As for the rocking of the Earth..." her voice trailed off as she weighed her words, aware that every sliver of hope in the room rested on her shoulders, "... as much as this could be a good thing, it could also be a not - so - good thing." 

A sudden escalation of whispering, murmuring, angry, frightened, swept the Hall. She held her hand up for silence. 

"We need to come to a decision and implement it. Haleth-" she nodded towards the boy, "-how habitable and defendable is Helm's Deep?" 

"It's not," came his reply, over the rising voices. "You saw it. The men said it will take years to repair the outer wall. All supplies were taken to Dunharrow." 

"We could barricade in the keep, hide in the caves..." one hopeful voice spoke up. 

"No." Aefre shook her head. "Once hidden within, the only way out is a small pathway through the mountains. The elderly won't make it. The smaller children won't either." 

Again, low mumblings rippled through the crowd. 

"Lady Aefre?" A young woman's - a chamber maid's - voice rose up over the crowd. "Beggin' your pardon, but if Gondor and the Rohirrim Riders have fallen, we could run and scatter, but we truly have no chance. Personally, I would rather die fighting, killing as many of those ugly bastards as I could, than die stabbed in the back or taken hostage to die at the whim of a stinking Orc!" 

Voices of agreement rolled over the Hall, like a giant sea wave. 

"Aye!" 

"I agree!" 

"I might be old and unable to run, but I swing a mean frying pan!" 

Aefre smiled at the elderly woman sitting close to the fire. The aged gentlemen sitting at her side placed a gnarled hand over her knee. "Ach! You're still as feisty today as you were the day I married you!" he whispered fondly in her ear. His flirtatious attempt got his hand smacked, but she did not seem to be too displeased. 

Aefre shook her head, amused at the elderly couple's love for each other. "So, we are agreed to stay and take a stand if it comes to that?" 

"Aye!" 

"Yes!"   
She looked around the Hall, each Rohirrim staunch, steadfast... 

_Tenacious. If anything, Béma made us that!_

"We are unable to light fires tonight, but we still need to keep watch. Each guard must listen. I'm going to request no talking in the towers or outside. Your ears will be of more use to you than your eyes. Question everything. If you hear anything, send a messenger to Cynn." She sat heavily and plopped her hands on her knees. "Everyone go to where you need to be. No shenanigans or tricks tonight." She waited and watched as the Golden Hall slowly emptied. 

She studied the hangings, the equine carvings of the posts, the buttresses. The Golden Hall of Meduseld, Pride of the Rohirrim, was an architectural marvel, a creation of beauty that spoke of the enduring strength and the character of the People of the Mark. She rubbed her eyes tiredly - surely the smoke was getting to her - before whispering, "I know you are behind me, Willan. Come around and sit with me." The giant ambled around and pulled a chair up beside her. "No drugged tea tonight, please." 

Willan shrugged. _*fine*_   
Aefre resumed her intense study of the hall. "I never thought a time would come when this could be destroyed and laid to waste." Willan laid a single finger on the tip of her nose and shook his head solemnly. "You don't think so?" 

Again. _*No*_

"I will hold you to that." She stood stiffly, rubbing the small of her back. As she turned, she laid her hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest, my friend. Get it while you can." 

For three days, the very air was gritty, dirty. It finally began to clear, turning from continual night to a lingering, red dusk. Slowly the people of Edoras made their way outdoors, resuming the planting, the collecting of wood, and burning of the bonfires. They convinced themselves that they lit the way, leading the Riders of the Mark home. 

_We still stand._

_We are still here._

In the watches of the fifth night, Willan shook Aefre from a fitful sleep. He threw a pair of leggings at her, to pull on under Gamling's tunic, which she still insisted on wearing. As she stumbled into the Great Hall, Aefre saw the travel-worn, exhausted Rider. 

"Abéodan?" 

"Lady Aefre!" The young man was on the verge of collapse. "My horse-" 

"Your horse will be tended to." She motioned to Willan. "Make sure his horse is rubbed down, fed and stabled. Rouse the cook. He needs food and ale." She looked back at the Rider. "Also, a bath and a place to sleep as well." She pulled him to the chair and shoved him into it, pulling one up for herself. "You have news?" 

"I...I..." Willan had returned and handed Aefre a mug, which she thrust in the young Rider's shaking hands. 

"Take your time. A few moments won't slaughter us." Aefre watched as the barely-whiskered man gulped down the cool beverage. She did nothing to slow him. She waited until he finished it, belched inelegantly and wiped his mouth with the back of his still leather-gloved hand. She signaled for another ale and interrupted his mumbled apology. "Captain Gamling-" 

"Sends his regards." Abéodan saw through her ruse and smiled gamely. "He is now Marshal and says to remind you, you have stud fees to discuss. He intends to be a difficult bargainer." 

Aefre visibly relaxed, letting out a pent - up sigh. 

_***Thank Béma, he lives. Marshal! There will be no living with him!***_

"I was the chosen messenger of many as I have the fastest horse and am the swiftest Rider," Abéodan remarked slowly, but proudly. Then he took a deep breath and recited the message he had repeated over and over during his two and a half day non-stop journey. “The war is over, the Ring destroyed. Thanks to the forces of the Army of the Dead, Gondor, Belfalas, Dol Amroth, Rangers, and others, the Dark Lord is defeated and utterly destroyed. The Black Gates of Mordor are broken, lie in waste, Sauron's minions are unleashed, leaderless, and scattered. Lady Éowyn, with the aid of the Hobbit, Merry, has killed the Witch King, yet lies gravely injured. Gondor rejoices at the return of her King, who shall be crowned by mid-summer." At this announcement, his voice fell and his shoulders slumped. "Many have died or lie injured in Minas Tirith's Houses of Healing injured. Many will never return home." 

The Great Hall had quietly filled, word spreading quickly that a messenger from Gondor had arrived. He raised his voice; it quivered weakly. "Another messenger will follow in the days to come with the Marks of the Fallen and injured." With this, his voice fell again and he leaned towards Aefre so only she could hear. "The King is dead, milady, struck down by the evil steed of the Witch King on Pelennor Fields. Éomer is now king." 

*** 

"I swear, Gamling, if that wench bows any lower serving you your ale, she will fall right out of her garment!" Elfhelm watched the woman's hips sashay across the tavern before lifting his own brimming mug. "Personally, I would enjoy seeing that." 

"Fine." Gamling raised his own mug, studying the depths surreptitiously. It didn't have the body or the heady aroma of good Rohirrim mead and it irked him. "I will tell her that you would enjoy her attentions." 

The Marshal coughed into his mug. "Me? ME? I miss my wife, but not that much! She would string me up and quarter me if she suspected I entertained another in my bed or in my cloak for even five minutes!" He finally settled down before mumbling. "She went as far as to pack small vials of body oils for my self -pleasure." 

Now it was Gamling's turn to spew his ale, coughing so hard, Elfhelm was forced to pound him on his back. "Béma, man! That was information I did _*not*_ need to know!" 

"Beats spit." 

This set off yet another round of hacking that caused many in the tavern to look closely at the two highly - ranked Horse Lords. They finished their tankards, talking of rotations, Orc raids, ridding Gondor of the scattering remains of Sauron's armies, finding less resistance, fewer Orcs as the days, weeks passed. Again, the over-endowed tavern maid came and not - so - shyly displayed her ample wares, flouncing off as Gamling blushed, still refusing to take the bait. 

"What is wrong with you?" Elfhelm exclaimed. "I've never known you to ignore something that sweet placed so openly on your plate!" 

"If you like her so much, you bed her and give her the coins she so desperately wants!" Gamling hissed back. 

Elfhelm sat up straight and set the newly refilled mug down gently. "The rumor is true. Finally, you have found one to turn your head. Who is she?" 

_*** lielielie as if it is any of your business...***_

"Come now, Gamling! If you've found yourself a sweet young filly, I am more than happy for you!" 

_***Sweet? Filly? Aefre??? May I hack my spleen...***_

"Believe me; one does not use the term 'sweet' or 'filly' when discussing Aefre-" 

"Aefre? Lufian of the Wold's Aefre? His widow?" Elfhelm whistled low and picked his tankard back up. "If you have captured her heart, well, you are indeed a lucky man and I can fully understand your newly acquired reluctance." He took several sips of ale and scowled. "This stuff is-" 

"Exotic," Gamling spat sarcastically. 

"Exotic? It's as exotic as horse-piss! I cannot wait to return home to real ale, real food, and a real woman! So the rumors I heard of you dumping an over-willing wench into the tub is probably true as well?" 

"You hear a lot of rumors." Gamling's voice echoed from the tankard. 

Elfhelm chuckled and grinned at the returning tavern maid. "Well, I think I can fix this for you." As the woman once more bent over to a red-faced Gamling, Elfhelm tossed one mail-clad arm over the Rider and leered. "As much as he seems to enjoy your abundant charms, milady, I must say this one's interest lies elsewhere!" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 

"Oh... oh... sir! I'm sorry." she rambled and began to back up, blushing as furiously as Gamling. "I... I didn't know... " 

Elfhelm smiled as she turned and ran. 

"Oh, many thanks, true friend! Now she thinks-" 

"Who cares what she thinks?" Elfhelm guffawed. "She'll leave you alone. I didn't lie!" He stood up and threw down several coins on the table. "When is your next rotation?" 

Gamling finished his ale, scowling, wanting something stronger. "Not for several more hours." 

"Then you should get some rest." 

Gamling nodded tiredly. 

_***Not until I find a scribe***_

*** 

"Are you sure the lady speaks Westron, sir?" 

Gamling scowled at the elderly man sitting at the desk, ink-stained fingers hovering over rolls of clean parchment. 

_***That's a good question. She speaks it, her grandmother was from Gondor, she's educated, maybe this is a bad-***_

"I am not paying you to ask questions. I'm paying you to simply write what I've asked you to write." 

"Then why don't _*you*_ write it, sir?" A young apprentice, no more than a boy, peered over his master's shoulders.   
Faster than a whip, the scribe's hand snaked out and cuffed the child on the ear. "Impertinent! Do you not recognize an esteemed and brave Rider of Rohan? Speak with respect!" 

More irritated with the man, rather than the child, Gamling reached out, flicking the man's wrist and saw the child's grateful blush. "He asked an honest question. Don't punish a child's curiosity." Gamling continued in order to cut off the scribe's angry retort. "My handwriting is illegible to most." 

_***Illegible? To most? HAH! What a joke, half-arsed scrawls and symbols for rations and tack...***_

Gamling cocked an eyebrow to the scribe. "Are you ready?" 

The scribe pulled quill and ink within reach and unrolled clean parchment. "Yes?" 

"Address it to the Lady Aefre-" The scribe raised an eyebrow at that, obviously wondering how the gritty soldier in front of him knew 'a lady.' Gamling paid him no mind and continued on. "-of-" 

_***the Wold?... no...***_

"-of Edoras." 

_***how to put this...***_

"Éomer King has survived, as has his sister." Wait for scribe. "The Battle is over, the war is won." Wait for scribe. "Gondor has accepted and embraced her King." 

_***Notice scribe giving a fist pump silent cheer...***_

There was a moment of silence. "Will there be anything else, sir?" 

"Yes." Gamling thought for another minute. "Proceed with the planting, double up on whatever protective measures you have in place." 

The man was scribbling away, his neat hand gliding over the page. "Will that be all?" No doubt this was the strangest love letter the scribe had ever transcribed. 

"One more thing-" 

_***hotothotsweetlegsmissyoumagicfingersmouthloveyounakedinmybed***_

"Yes?" 

"Remind her, we have stud fees to discuss. I'll be home as soon as possible." 

"Anything else?" 

_***hothotsoweeetnakednakednaked.....****_

"No. Yes. Tell her, she knows where I expect to find her upon my return. That is all." 

_***yes!***_

Gamling waited patiently as the quill scratched away and stood by until the scribe handed him the dipped quill to place his mark. The scribe sanded the parchment, blowing on the ink to ensure its dryness, before rolling it and handing it to the tall Horse Lord. He waved the Rider's gold away. "I was up on the fifth level when you and your Riders arrived at sunrise. Impressive sight and Eru-sent, you were. Do not be concerned with this one." He nodded to the child, still rubbing his ear in the corner. "That one-" he gestured, "has been enamored of your magnificent horses ever since you entered the city." 

"Have you now?" Gamling quirked an eyebrow at the youngster. "How would you like to see the King of Rohan's horse, up close?" 

"Really?" The urchin's features lit up. "You can do that? You know the King of Rohan's horse?" 

"Aye." 

_***ooooh, Éomer, how low you've come, now second to your horse....***_

The scribe waved the two off, claiming it was late in the day and now the apprentice would be useless to him. As the tall Rider from Rohan strode purposely through the streets towards the stables, people parted, moved to the side, dipped and smiled in appreciation and humor at the chattering boy dogging his heels. 

"I heard the King of Rohan's steed breathes fire like a dragon! And he eats children who do not behave..." 

*** 

The news of Théoden's death swept through Edoras like a flood. Although there was rejoicing in victory, an underlying pall of sobriety and fear could be felt. Every hour of every day, watchers on the towers scanned the horizon for more messengers; with bags they knew would bring devastating news. Small bands of Orcs ventured into Rohan, only to be slaughtered by angry Shield Maidens and future Riders. For all the Rohirrim knew, _*this Orc*_ could have possibly cut down a loved one and they showed no mercy. 

Thirteen days after the first messenger arrived, three Riders, laden with the dreaded, full saddlebags, tiredly made their way into the capital. They were fed, given ale; their horses lovingly, reverently cared for. While they bathed and then were sent to the barracks to sleep, Aefre sat on a stool, the hated bags of identifying Marks at her feet, the lists of injured in her hands. 

"This should be more private..." 

"Do it, milady." Cynn spoke up. "We'll console each other better this way." 

She read Gamling's letter silently first, keeping the personal comments close to her heart. She read aloud the lists of injured, taking note of worried gratitude on the relatives' faces; she particularly rejoiced as Cynn grabbed and hugged an unsuspecting Bawdewyne when she announced his daughter lived. Upon reading the end of the list, she slowly, unwillingly reached for the first bag, pulling the ties open and reaching in for the first Mark. She braced herself as she read out the first name. 

"Fyren. Fyren of Edoras. I'm so sorry." 

And there was wailing in Rohan. 

***   
Tbc   
***


	23. 22 - My Power, My Pleasure, My... PAIN IN THE ARSE!

****

Rider of the Mark 22 

****

My Power, My Pleasure, My... Pain in the ARSE! 

***   
"Ho, Gamling!" Éomer strode into the stables, saluting, acknowledging the Rohirrim as he passed. He scratched Firefoot on the nose before pulling a small handful of alfalfa from his pouch. "Gamling!" Are you in here?" 

"In the back." Gamling's voice was muffled, coming from the furthest stall. Saddlebags were placed neatly outside the stall, and Éomer looked in to see the Horse Lord bent over, picking out shavings and dung from Dréogan's hoof. 

"What can I do for you, sire?" 

Éomer bristled before relaxing, still unused to and not liking the sudden use of honorifics from men he had drunk and wenched with.   
Especially from this one. 

He started to open his mouth, to admonish the older Rider, but he snapped it shut quickly; it was an argument he and Gamling had had several times since Pelennor Fields. 

Even more so, since Slag-hills. It was an argument he had lost every time. 

_@@@@@@@@@_

_"Must you address me like that in public? You are my friend-"_

_"You are our king... MY king... sire." Gamling had replied stiffly._

_"Aren't kings allowed to have friends, old man?"_

_This had brought Gamling up short when Éomer had asked that question of him. "In private, sire. In public, they have advisors."  
@@@@@@@@@ _

 

And so this barn was very public. Still, it was irritating. 

"I wish you would reconsider." 

Gamling never looked up; simply dropped the hoof he had cleaned and took one step, touching Dréogan on the flank. The warhorse obediently lifted his foreleg, easing the hoof into the Rider's waiting hand, "Rohan has been too long without Riders. I suspect more Orcs and damned creatures escaped north." 

Finally he lifted his eyes to the young King. "I would not leave our women and children open and unprotected longer. Surely, you understand that!" 

Éomer smirked and leaned against the stall door, arms crossed over his chest. "I know!" He leaned forward slightly. "I understand. I agree. Let Elfhelm go first and come to Rivendell with me. Just think, Gamling! Rivendell! Elves! Beautiful Elleths!" 

Gamling scowled and focused on the hoof in his hand. "Not interested." 

"Ah." Éomer grinned knowingly. "Aefre. Very well. Bring her with you! She needs a change of scenery!" 

Gamling dropped the hoof and stood nose to nose with his liege. "Sire," he enunciated, "There are widows and orphans in your kingdom. There are fields and crops that should have been planted. Orcs and Wild Men are running, possibly roaming our lands unchecked. I understand the diplomatic need for you to travel with Elrond's sons to retrieve their sister, but surely-" 

"Gamling!" Éomer hissed, desperate not to be overheard. "I will be stuck with Éowyn and her friend, Ffffffffffffarrrrrrrrrrramir!" 

_***oooooohlovebirdssodisgustingyou'renextnextnext***_

"The Steward?" Gamling blinked, feigned confusion. "We didn't scare him enough?" 

"NO!" 

"Hmmm. Fine fellow." Gamling pointed to his saddle. "Hand me that, would you?" 

Éomer leaned over and picked up the heavy, ornate saddle and brought it over. He was completely unaware that the noise and talking among the Rohirrim had come to a halt; every ear listening. "You wouldn't say such if it were your sister!" 

"Sire," Gamling took the saddle from him and slung it over Dréogan's back. "It is apparent that your sister is interested in the Steward of Gondor. And he likes her as well. Surely, you can see the political significance of such an alliance." He elbowed the king good-naturedly. "They 'like' each other. 'Tis a good thing!" He began to tighten the girths around Dréogan's stomach. "I hear the Prince of Dol Amroth is going to Rivendell as well. What's his name again?" 

"Imrahil." It was sullen. 

"Good. If Éowyn and Faramir get too friendly, go and talk to him. I'm sure he will be glad to impart any advice concerning running a country." 

Éomer was muttering, glowering under his breath. 

"What did you say, sire?" 

"I SAID he is bringing his daughter, Lothiriel." 

_***ooooooh DAUGHTER... Princess! Mwuhahahahah!***_

"Oh? Marriagable? Pretty? Old enough?" 

"I don't know! I don't care!" Éomer kicked at the sawdust. "Probably pampered, over-indulged, probably full of herself, you know how those coastal people are!" He continued to dig with the toe of his boot. "Probably spoiled." 

"Speaking of daughters," Gamling nodded to the stall across from him. Cynn's daughter was saddling up, tired, moving slowly. "I need to see her home." 

"Is she able? Ready?" 

"No, but tell her that." 

Éomer sighed heavily. "I just don't want to take this trip alone." He narrowed his eyes evilly. "I could order you-" 

"Don't!" Gamling nodded to his saddlebags and gear and Éomer reluctantly handed them to him. "I'll be poor company." 

Éomer crossed his arms sullenly and stepped back. "Poor Aefre. I don't know what she sees in you." 

_***I don't either***_

There was a pained silence as Gamling completed his saddling, making sure his bags, saddle and weapons were secure. "When do we bring Théoden home?" 

Éomer took Dréogan by the bridle, giving the stallion a farewell apple and pat. "After the royal wedding. The plan is for us to escort the bridal party to Gondor. After the celebration, we will bring Théoden home. You-" he shoved a finger at the Rider, "will be coming. You can show Aefre the hanging gardens. I know you wanted to. Maybe you two lovebirds can-" 

"Send your Riders home, sire," Gamling whispered. "Do it loudly." The Horse Lord pulled up on an eager Dréogan - eager to ride, eager to go home. Gamling mounted up. One last time he checked his cloak, to make sure it was anchored securely and squeezed his hand, feeling the ribband still wrapped around it. 

Éomer turned the horse loose and threw the stall door wide, striding through the corridor. "ROHIRRIM! To home! To home! To land and hearth-" 

"And real ale and real WOMEN!" someone called back. 

"HERE! AYE!" 

Éomer threw the stable door open, the courtyard now full of mounted Riders. 

"Make way! Make way! Rohirrim!" 

Gamling followed the others out, saluting Éomer, before passing the others and moving to the head of the line. 

Slowly they made their way through the stable yard, into the streets; making their way to the city gates. Many grateful citizens came to cheer them, throw flowers. Gamling himself, as all of the Riders, had tokens, bouquets pressed into his hands... 

_*Thank you, Eru bless you, thank you...*_

...to the point he couldn't wait to clear the city, the walls, to pass beyond them, planning to lay them on the mounds of ashes of Rohirrim dead. Cynn's daughter had her helmet off, a proud Shield Maiden, long, golden hair flowing down her stiff, straight back. 

_***please take me home, Gamling. I want to go home and never never leave...***_

Home. 

The clopping of Dréogan's hooves created a rhythmic beat, reiterating the thought in Gamling's head. 

_***Home home take me home...***_

He knew one thing- 

Home was where Aefre was and he had no intention of leaving again. 

*** 

The first hamlet they came to was half devastated- the earth in the square, scorched. The villagers - depressingly old or disgustingly young, were working in the fields. Heads of decapitated Orcs rotted on pikes away from the farmland. 

 

Each man, woman, and child rushed to greet the incoming Riders. News of victory had reached them as had the news of Théoden's death. 

"What news of the Riddermark?" Gamling's gaze scoured the burnt ruins of homes and property with a soldier's eye. He looked down at the young boy clinging to his stirruped boot. 

"Orcs! Orcs, my lord, a gang of them. Come running at mid-day! My granny corked one with her skillet and I gutted him!" the boy crowed proudly. 

"Did you now?" 

"Aye, I did! Killed 'em all, we did, the dirty bast-" the child stopped himself at Gamling's raised eyebrow - and his grandmother's cuff of his ear. "OW!" 

"Y'had help!" The old woman admonished him sternly. "Don't speak so to a Rider or else you'll never become one!" 

"Did any escape?" Gamling asked. 

The old woman squinted in thought. "Not of these rabble, but we've heard rumors of others. Other villages. Other farms."   
_***wonderful. Just lovely. I knew it! We lingered too long in Gondor...***_

Gamling turned in his saddle to face the accompanying Riders. "It's as I feared. Renegade Orcs have sought sanctuary in Rohan." 

"There is no room for them here!" 

Gamling nodded to the outspoken Rider. "I am glad we are in agreement." He took in Cynn's daughter's slumped and dejected shoulders. 

_***You wanted to go to war, little one...***_

_***Home, Gamling. Take me home...***_

"We are on our way home, sir," she interrupted, her voice brittle. She adjusted her helmet and checked her sword. "I don't want those things here in the Riddermark any more than I wanted them in Gondor!" Both of her hands gripped her reins tightly. "Let's finish this once and for all!" 

For several days, they searched the southern part of the Riddermark, finding other villages in similar states, cold campfires of raiders. They routed several remaining bands, leaving no survivors, no lingering life. 

As they pushed northward, the Riders separated, moving towards their own lands, staying in groups, continuing to scour the Mark of unwelcome guests. There were fewer and fewer traces of marauders and even Gamling's own guard was lowered when they crossed into home territory not quite before dusk. 

He could see the glow of far-off bonfires. 

Cynn's daughter was bouncing. 

"LOOK! Look, sir! They light the way!" 

Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking of... 

_***nakednakednakedinmy bed***_

...the party of Riders was attacked. 

***   
Refugees were trickling into Edoras; a few here, a few there. Most were from the southern portion of the Riddermark, small bands of Orcs and strange men were attacking small villages and remote farms. For the most part, the invaders were being repelled. 

Aefre had heard a rumor of a large battle troll invading, wreaking havoc on an entire village before being brought down. An old woman today told her of Riders - victorious Riders - coming home, being way-laid to rout trespassers, cleansing the Eastfold. 

Aefre had searched, asked, attempting to discern if Gamling was part of the troop. 

No one could give her the answers she sought. 

For two days, she worried, yearned. She threw the windows of his chamber open... 

_***fresh linens the beds and furniture dusted, clothes laundered, fresh pillow casings and furs and bedding beaten and aired. Tunics I've slept in...Well, not this one, it's old and I'll just keep it... folded away in the wardrobe, that wall hanging is slightly crooked, dust and dust and dust some more, fresh herbs strewn around the room...oh, this will not do at all...***_

The man had been to war. He had witnessed more carnage and caused quite a bit, if truth be told. More than likely, he would have demons dogging his very heels. Aefre decided Gamling had seen enough war and death and blood. Knowing him, he would have prepared Théoden's body. No one had mentioned a funeral procession, and she hoped and prayed the Gondorians had not cremated the Rohirrim king, but after reading the Marks of those not returning, she did not hold out much hope. She could wash the walls and scrub the floors all she desired, it would not prevent the nightmares that were sure to follow. The moon was waning, a sliver of a crescent, best for the banishing of fell creatures and spirits. Aefre was determined nothing of the dark would find toehold within this sanctuary. As before, she went to the kitchens, carrying a laden basket; a bowl and pitcher of water, a bag of salt, a bundle of dried herbs, two candles and a small, brass bell. 

She stood still, breathing deeply, and released all thoughts from her mind. Then, she lit the bundle of herbs with a twig from the hearth. She blew out the flame until there was just a smoking ember. With the herb bundle held straight out in front of her, Aefre paced counter-clockwise, to her left, in a circle around the room. 

_***... to do a Banishing, cast the circle widdershins...***_

She returned to the table, extinguishing the burning herbs into a bowl of sand, and sprinkled the salt into the bowl of water. She lit first the white candle, then the black. She took the bowl in her hand and paced around her circle, first facing North and sprinkling drops of water in front of her. "Guardian of the North, defend this space from any ill of the Earth!" She then faced West, and again sprinkled salted water. "Guardian of the West, defend this space from any ill of the Water!" She repeated the ritual; South, to defend the space from ill of the Fire, and finally, East, to defend the space from any ill of the Air. She stood in the center of the room, and sprinkled water all around herself, saying, "Spirits of Evil, unfriendly Beings, unwanted Guests, begone! Leave this space that the Gods may enter!" She sprinkled more water, "Go, or be cast into the outer darkness! Go, or be drowned in the watery abyss! Go, or be burned in the fire! Go, or be torn by the whirlwind! By the powers of life and death, I banish you! I banish you! I banish you! Begone!" 

She spat three times into the few drops of salted water remaining in the bowl, held it over the flame of the black candle until it boiled away. Then, she set down the bowl, took the small brass bell in her hand, and paced once more around the circle, ringing the bell, chanting, "Begone! Begone! Begone!" 

She turned to each of the four directions, clockwise this time, and thanked the Guardians of Air, Fire, Water and Earth for their protection. 

"There," she dusted her hands off, "that's done!" She looked the room over, a practiced, critical eye taking note of everything, "Now to put fresh linens on this bed, hang curtains. Should I put flowers in a bowl? Or... Béma! That banner just refuses to hang right!" 

*** 

Spring planting had begun. The fields were sown, readied, rained on, prayed for. There were small green shoots coming up from the soil. There were piglets suckling the old sow that had not given birth in years - 'a good sign, lady Aefre, is it not?' Calves, chicks, goslings, lambs and goats... while the rest of the world had prepared and gone to war, the barnyard had continued on with life as usual. 

There was news of the occasional Orc raid, people of the Mark quick to defend, quick to lash out, quick to stop the rampage. 

The bonfires had been renewed with fresh wood, anything that would burn, to be piled on and lit at night. 

Late on the third afternoon, Aefre went to the barn, carrots in hand for Adenydd. 

"Come on, girl, time to go back to your stall. *He* will be home at any time and we don't know if he'll mind you in his stall or not." Adenydd followed obediently, munching on the offered carrots as she returned to her own stall. Tying up her skirts, Aefre grabbed a pick, sifting through the sawdust and bits of straw and laying fresh bedding on the stall floor. Although it didn't take long, Aefre realized she was exhausted and winded at the end of the chore. As the bell sounded for dinner, the thought occurred to her that while she hadn't eaten all day, she was not hungry. 

In fact, the mere thought of food nauseated her. 

_***Ah, it's probably just the excitement of his return...***_

The thought also occurred to her that perhaps Gamling would be upset that she had lived in his chambers during the weeks he had been gone. Perhaps he didn't care... perhaps it had been the heat of the upcoming battle, just simple need. When called for a skirmish, Lufien had been insatiable, desperate for her touch before and after. Perhaps there was nothing... 

_***I expect you know where I wish to find you upon my return...***_

Her hand clutched the parchment, folded neatly in her pocket. No. He had made it a point twice to remind her of stud fees and had brazenly reminded her in a written missive that he fully expected to find her naked in his bed. Those were not the words of a Rider who would want little or nothing to do with her upon his return. 

Stall cleaned, fresh bedding put down, feed and water readied for his return...chambers cleaned, freshly swept, freshly aired, fresh linens, everything neat, finally that banner hangs like it should, I call the Guardians of the East, I banish the Ghosts that would follow, I call to the Guardians of the North, black souls are not welcome here... 

"The bonfires are lit, my lady... there is movement to the south..." 

Riders. 

Riders on the horizon... 

*** 

Aefre was in the kitchens when the clanging bell sounded. The sun had just completed its descent and the young ones were beginning to return from lighting the outer fires. She heard the calling, the squeals of delight from the surrounding women as each and every one - including the irascible cook - dropped what they were doing and ran to the outer yard. 

Aefre caught herself turning towards Gamling's chambers, hands racing to untie her apron. 

_***Bema! He might not even be with this group!***_

She spun on her heel; hands clenched in fists, as she hurried back to the kitchens and grabbed an apple - just in case. She left through the side doors and came around the southern side of the Golden Hall, in time to see Riders come through the gate. Young stable boys took reins as Riders dismounted to open arms, kisses. She watched as Cynn's daughter vaulted from her horse, looking tired, worn, aged in a strange way, into her fathers' warm, welcoming arms - - - 

"Da! Da! I'm sorrysorrysorry Da! I never want to leave home again..." 

Ah, there he was, last one in, of course, stubborn man! And no helmet! Probably lost in the heat of battle! Forgetting decorum, forgetting everything, she lifted her skirts and ran, dodging excited women and children, dashed to the Horse Lord's side. Dréogan, held by Haleth, was looking, looking towards the stable and nickering, calling. Haleth was chattering, non-stop, words Aefre wasn't paying attention to. Absent-mindedly, she handed the boy the apple, fixated on the Rider, drinking in the look of him.   
_***tiredsotired***_

He looked wan, pale, ragged to the bone. _***No matter. I'll have a bath drawn and food and a pint... TWO pints... ***_

"Just Gamling-" 

She fixated on his face, lines that weren't there when he left Rohan, now very evident. Aefre laid a hand on his thigh, only to jerk it back as she saw the black splattering of dried blood that liberally sprinkled his armored skirt. 

"Gamling? " She reached up, hand moving gently up his side. 

It was wet. 

_***Sweat?***_

_***homehomehome sweet thing, so tired***_

"You... are not... where...I...asked you... to be..." 

"I had no idea whether you would be in this group." Aefre heard the pain in his voice and pulled her hand from his waist. 

Blood, blood, bright red hand covered in... 

In alarm, her eyes jerked to his face, seeing the grim white line around his mouth... 

Gamling saw her mouth moving, but couldn't hear the sound issuing forth. 

"Oh nononoo... WILLAN! WILLAN! Haleth, hold Dréogan - good boy, don't move, boy... WILLAN!" Aefre reached up to brace the leaning Rider. "Someone help me... damn you... you cretin, come home injured; how could you... dammit dammit WILLAN!!! WILLAN!!!" 

As he pitched forward into Aefre's arms, Gamling's world went black. 

***   
To be continued   
***   
Thanks to Starhawk, The Spiral Dance, reissued 1999, for the Banishing invocation (as well as to Dame Niamh for suggesting it!) Banishing is something Wiccans do frequently as needed


	24. Part 23 - The Days of our Rohirrim Lives As the World Turns around Middle Earth at General Hospital. Meanwhile, the Young and Restless are Bold and Beautiful...

**_Rider Of The Mark_**

**_Part 23 - The Days of our Rohirrim Lives As the World Turns around Middle Earth at General Hospital. Meanwhile, the Young and Restless are Bold and Beautiful..._**

*****

 

"WILLAN!!" Gamling's body fell from his saddle with a thud, Aefre's knees very nearly collapsing as the full weight of the unconscious man landed on top of her. "Oh Béma, nonono Dréogan, hold steady, boy-"

"I've got him, ma'am!" Haleth had Dréogan by the bridle, as if that would stop the giant warhorse from moving. In the days that would follow, Aefre would be grateful the destrier had been well-trained and he held still as woman and Rider began to sink to the ground.

Before she collapsed, a pair of strong arms slid between her and the Horse Lord, Willan grunting as he hoisted Gamling over his shoulder. "Quick, through the kitchen, there - take him to my room, it's closer. Haleth-" she addressed the boy, "take Dréogan to the stable. Rub him down, feed and water him. Bring the Marshal's things to my chamber. You know where it is?"

"Yes, m'lady."

"Good. Be quick!" She scurried after the large servant, following him into the kitchens. The joyous bustling of the kitchen stopped as Willan threaded his way around cooks and tables with the injured Rider slung over his shoulder. 

"What the-" The nosy cook planted her fists on her hips. "Well! I-"

Aefre burst through the door with a bang, interrupting the woman in the midst of her outburst. “I need hot water, clean cloths, soap, comfrey, willow bark, to my chamber, immediately! And another healer. And bandages! And the strongest ale in Edoras. If he wakes up during any of this, he will be a warg angered beyond..." her voice trailed off as she went through the other door.

Willan was moving fast; he was already down the hall and kicking the door to her chamber open. Aefre rushed around him, pulling the top layer of coverings back from the smaller bed. "Here... here... gently..."

Willan lowered the Horse Lord to the bed, a pained grunt assailing Aefre's ears. 

"Gamling... can you hear me?"

"...not... naked..." 

"No, I'm not, but you are going to be!" Aefre leaned over and unhooked his cloak. "Willan, help me get his clothes off. You!" she spun on the serving girl, standing in the doorway with her arms piled high with clean cloths. "Béma! Where is the healer?" She turned back to Gamling and unlaced his chest plate, pulling it away from his body. 

"Ma'am, they had a skirmish just past the bonfires. She is attending to several injured-" 

"Unless they are dying, tell her I need her ... oh... Béma..."

Gamling's tunic was blood-soaked, plastered to his right side - crusted from his waist to beneath his arm. There was no way to pull this off...

"Willan, get my knife from the mantel, now! Girl! Get me a healer or someone to help me! NOW!" 

"But, m'lady-"

"Get. Me. Some. One!" Aefre grabbed the offered knife and sliced up the front of the shirt, then soaked it with clean wet cloths until the dried blood loosened, slowly peeling it away from his body.

"Willan, I need-" she looked over her shoulder to see the back of the man already out the door. As soon as he disappeared, another serving girl entered with a large pitcher of steaming water, several cloths draping her arm. 

"I need your help." She gestured to the table next to her bed. "There is a large bowl under there. Put it on top of the table and pour the water in it. Then go around behind him."

"Oh, ma'am! I never-" 

"Stop yammering and do it! Stop blushing while you're at it." Aefre snatched one of the cloths from the girl's arm and dipped it into the bowl as the maid filled it with hot water. She turned and as gently as she dared, began to clean the blood and grime from the wound site.

"...tough..."

It was grunted and Aefre glanced at him to see pain glazed eyes boring into hers. 

"Think so? You haven't seen anything yet. Tell me if I-"

"...is... all right..." Gamling closed his eyes, grimacing. "... ruined my... best... tunic..." Aefre snorted at his lament.

Willan returned, arms laden with bags, containers, another pitcher of steaming water. He sniffed the steam rising from the bowl.

"Nothing but hot water, Willan. What do you have?"

The mute began setting things on the table, picking and choosing. For the fourth time, Aefre dipped the cloth into the now bloody, muddy water. "Open the window, girl, and dump out the contents of this bowl. Then go and get another pitcher of hot water. Keep the hot water coming!" She reached over and grabbed the cloths still draped over the girl's arm. "Leave those!"

The girl jumped up, away from the bed, throwing the window open before grabbing the bowl and throwing the dirty water out of the window. "Ma'am, I-"

"Just keep the water coming!" She waited as Willan filled the bowl and then began to sprinkle medicinal herbs into it.

In silence, the two worked together, cleaning, swabbing down. Several times, Aefre squeezed water into the wound, forcing filth to rise to the top, only to watch it dribble over his side and slowly roll towards the cloths bundled at the junction of his side and the mattress. Aefre rubbed her face across her shoulder and upper arm many times, wiping away sweat... tears...? Did it matter? Horrified at the amount of filth, dirt, and Béma knew what else was embedded in the gash, Aefre wrung out a fresh cloth in hot water and gently wiped the Rider's face. It seemed forever to Aefre before the deep and ugly cut ran bright red blood. The girl returned several times with fresh hot water and linens before an elderly healer finally hobbled into the room.

She peered over Aefre's shoulder, squinting down at the semi-conscious man. "How deep is it?"

"Deep enough." 

Gently, Aefre pressed the loose flaps of skin, assessing the damage. "He needs to be sewn.'

"Well, that's simple enough." The old woman slowly straightened up. "Y'just get yourself some sheep gut thread and the sharpest needle y'have..."

"NO!" Aefre gasped. "I can't!" 

"Never sewn a man, before?" the old crone cackled. "Tis simple enough. First you-"

"I can't sew!" Aefre whispered. "My stitches are huge, lopsided, ugly loose things. You'll have to do it!"

The old woman thought for a moment. "I'm sorry, Lady Aefre. I can't hardly see. You'll have to-"

"Surely, you know someone who can do this!" 

The healer tapped a crooked finger against her lip. "Well, there is one, who sews finer than anyone. She's helped me a time or two. But I don't think you would want the likes of her in your chambers, or his for that matter."

"Look! I don't care if she's a whore in the brothel! Get her up here!"

"As you wish." The old crone scurried out, grabbing the serving girl as she went. "Hie you down to The Blue Whale. Get Eadignes, tell her to hurry!"

Aefre continued to clean, bathe him as best as possible. Willan had removed his boots, the remainder of his armor, leaving Gamling in nothing but his leggings. Willan's hands moved to the waistband.

"Take them off carefully and put a sheet over him," Aefre was stuffing dry cloths where Gamling's body met the mattress. "I'll bathe the rest of him later."

"...still... not... naked..."

"Such a man," she retorted quietly. "He goes through the war unscathed, only to be almost killed outside the city gates." She continued to clean and disinfect the wound with witch hazel bark steeped in some of the hot water. "What am I to do with you?"

"...get... na...ked..." 

"Ah, as if I could work better unhindered. And what would you do if I complied with your request?"

"... looooook ..." Gamling's voice was getting softer and softer as he sank towards unconsciousness again.

"You are going to have to be sewn, milord Marshal. Do you need anything to help dull the pain?" 

There was no answer, and when Aefre looked over, his eyes were closed. 

"Damn! Where is that woman?" Aefre looked back up, searching. "Willan! Have the kitchen make tea; put comfrey and willow bark in it, he will need it against fever.” The man rose to go to the door. "Please hurry. You might have to hold him down." 

The room was quiet for a few minutes as she continued to bathe him.

"...won't... need... Willan..." 

"What was that?" Aefre did not stop her gentle swabbing.

"Been... sewn... before... won't need... Willan..."

Aefre remembered the scars that she had felt, touched... 

_***...kissed and licked...***_

...that night in Dunharrow. Of course, he had been sewn before. "Not like this, min heorte. Ah, look," she dragged a finger down the curve of his leather-clad hand, propped in her lap. "I thought Willan had gotten your riding gloves." She laid the dripping cloth over a particularly deep section of the ugly cut, allowing the medicinal herbs to soak into the laceration. She carefully removed the glove, tossing it in the corner with his armor, before reaching for his hand and removing the second. She tugged at the fingers, only to stop and stare, dropping the grimy thing where she sat. She turned his hand over, caressing the palm, tracing the path of the once green ribband wrapped around it. It was filthy, the insignia of her father's house covered in sweat and...

"Did you not once take it off?" she whispered, hoarsely. 

Gamling's hand clenched weakly. "...don't... take it..."

Aefre stroked the back of his hand, closing his fingers around her token. "For now, you may keep this." She laid his hand back up and out of the way and returned her attention to the sword cut. As she lifted the cloth, she was grateful that the bleeding had stopped. The door flew open behind her. "Willan! Good your-"

"Oh, Béma!" The voice was younger, higher pitched. Aefre turned to look over her shoulder to see a young woman, in a low-cut, too-tight dress, staring in horror at the man on the bed. She held a large bag in her arms.

"You're the healer?" 

The girl tore her eyes away from the Rider on the bed. "I was told that someone needed stitching."

Willan followed, coming around the woman, looking at her... looking very... 

_interested..._

"Look here!" The girl gathered herself and thrust a bottle at the Rohirrim standing next to her. "It's strong, mead brandy. The strongest in the bar. Start pouring it down him until he passes out." She looked back at Gamling, fear... and something else Aefre did not want to contemplate - crossing the young woman's features.

"The Captain holds his liquor well. It will take a little while to get him..." Tentatively, she touched Aefre's shoulder. "I can work better from this side, m'lady." 

Aefre slid from her place, going around the bed to the back. Quickly, the woman ran her hands down Gamling's side to the cut, scowling at the viciousness of it. 

"M'Lord Gamling-"

"GRRRRRRR" 

"Don't growl at me! You and I have been along this road before," she said sternly. "I need you to drink this. And keep-"

"Eadignes?" It was whispered. Gamling's eyes opened up and he searched, someone else sitting in Aefre's spot.

"Aye, it's me. I took Wulfric's best brandy ale from his cabinet," Gamling smiled at that, "so drink up before he discovers it! He won't miss what he can't find!" She nodded to Willan. "Will you help him with that?" 

"I.. don't... need-"

"Gamling!" Again, Eadignes' voice was curt. "This is a very deep wound! I do not think your lady will want the scar wide and jagged, and you bent over like an old soldier. Please," her voice softened, gentled, "Drink it."

"...pay..."

"You'll do no such thing! Just drink it."

Aefre sat on the other side, sliding pillows under Gamling's head and handing fresh cloths as needed. She watched as Willan slowly dribbled the reddish - hued brew into a not - so -eager mouth. Eadignes reached around the tall man, dipping yet another clean cloth into the water. Aefre noticed how carefully, tenderly, she rebathed the cut, inspecting the skin, the wound's edges. Eadignes stood up and went to her sack, pulling out fine sheep's gut thread and several slender bone needles.

"How potent is the brandy?" 

 

"It is the strongest at the Blue Whale." The girl - she really wasn't more than that - began to unravel and lay out lengths of thread, cutting them into manageable lengths with a small knife. "Had I known it was the Captain-“

“Marshal. He is Marshal now.”

“Oh,” she breathed quietly. “Well deserved, I’m sure. Either way, had I known it was him, I would have brought a second bottle - just to be safe. But I think one should do it." She laid the first threaded needle down. "At least, I hope so." 

_***BlueWhaleBlueWhale...***_

"You are a bar maid at the Blue Whale?"

The girl smiled ruefully and continued to thread needles. "I'll not lie to you, m'lady, as the truth would get back to you soon enough. I do... other... work besides tend the bar at the Blue Whale." She laid down another needle. "I promise to remove myself from your chambers as soon as I finish."

The old healer's words suddenly began to make sense.

"Know Gamling well, do you?"

Eadignes looked up, resigned, before looking over to the man lying prone in Aefre's bed. "How far gone is he?"

Aefre leaned over, searching for signs of unconsciousness. "Gamling? How fare you?"

"izzit foodz sweetz anden swim!"

"Well, I think it's safe to say, he's pretty well-soused." Aefre grinned.

"Amnut... sssh-ow-shhh..."

"I stand corrected. No, the great Marshal Gamling who rode into the city without his helmet is not soused!" Aefre patted the shoulder reassuringly. "You're wide awake and ready to cut down a horde of Orcs. Béma forbid that you, of all people, would get drunk!"

"Zezrite!" There was a loud belch. "Izzit mur fer izzit whatzis."

Aefre looked down to see Willan struggling to keep a straight face. "Stop that! How much is left in that bottle? He's bleeding again and we can't wait much longer!" Willan held the bottle up to the light to inspect the contents. There were perhaps three fingers left in it. He began to dribble it into Gamling's mouth.

Aefre continued to swab, clean the wound site, until the bottle was empty and the Horse Lord was snoring. Eadignes sank back down in the curve of Gamling's lap, inserting the needles into the mattress. "Thank you," she nodded to Willan, "He won't move."

Willan looked at Aefre, expectantly and then turned to go. He held Aefre's teapot in one massive hand. "Go see if the other healers need help. If not, check on Dréogan and then the kitchens. Cook will be in a fine fury, I guarantee." Willan tapped the side of the teapot with a finger tip. "On second thought, tea would be lovely. Thank you for suggesting it. Enough for both of us, please." Aefre turned her attention back to the girl across from her. "What do you need me to do?" Aefre lifted Gamling's arm and crooked it over his head, which caused him to snore even more. She made sure there was a bedpost nearby for him to grab on to. "Have you known him to snore?"

Eadignes looked up at her in surprise. That the noblewoman was still speaking to her, much less allowing the whore to tend to the Marshal, shocked her, but to ask her such an intimate question... "Uhm... no, ma'am. But I've never seen him this drunk either."

"So, he's not one to drink-"

"I didn't say that!" Eadignes' eyebrows knitted in consternation. "I've seen him drink Éomer under the table a few times and still be able to-" she stopped in mid-sentence. "Please, ma'am. This is most uncomfortable." She began to push the skin together. "He's a good man. You are very lucky."

Aefre leaned over, her hands aiding the younger woman's. "What makes you think he is mine?"

Eadignes snorted and picked up the first needle, knotting the end of the thread. "This is a deep cut. I cannot sew the muscle, only the skin. I'll need you to hold it tightly together while I sew and then we will have to bind his chest tightly so the muscle will heal." She perused the wound site again. "It's lucky this wasn't a leg or arm wound. Had it been his leg, he would have limped for the rest of his life." 

"He would have lost use of his arm," Aefre whispered.

"Aye. He will bleed, just so you know, so do not be alarmed." She inserted the needle into the upper edge of the wound, under his arm, where the depth was the shallowest. Sure enough, a trickle of blood seeped from the entry point and Aefre used a damp cloth to clean it. Although unconscious, Gamling inhaled sharply, his hand clutching at the bedpost. "As for how I know he is yours, I overheard what he said to the woman in his tent; about wanting her naked in his bed upon his return. So I waited, I watched to see who left Gamling's tent in Dunharrow." Eadignes made two more stitches. "It was you." She waited for Aefre to dab blood away again. "Not to mention, I overheard you calling him 'your heart'." With tiny, deliberate stitches, the girl was moving down the wound. "Hold it together here. I also saw him bring you back later. Never have I seen him so angry." She took her eyes from her task for a moment. "And I have seen him plenty angry." The room was quiet while the girl sewed and the woman cleaned and held skin together. 

At some point, Willan re-entered the room, tying the curtain further back to allow more sunlight in and setting down a filled teapot and two mugs. Rather than leave, he drifted into the corner, into the shadows, watching and listening intently.

Finally, after forever, it was done. As Eadignes made the final stitches, Aefre rose to the table, where her herbs and medicines lay. Pouring fresh water into a bowl, she mixed up a thick, gooey paste.

"What's that?" Eadignes was peering over her shoulder.

"It's comfrey and willow bark - a painkiller and an anti-swelling poultice." Aefre picked up the bowl and sat where Eadignes had sat for so long. "This will reduce the swelling and ease the ache. I will also put comfrey in his water and broth when he wakes. I imagine he will be quite sore." Gently, she began to smear the paste along the wound. As she did so, she closely inspected and examined the girl's stitches; finely wrought and seemingly perfect. "He'll also run a fever. We'll have to watch for that."

"If you are finished with me-"

"Hand me those strips on the back of my chair." Aefre held her hand out, waiting for the clean bandages. She laid them over Gamling's side, the unguent causing them to stick to wound. Motioning to Willan, the three gently bandaged the Rider's chest and waist with tight strips of cloth, working the long ends under him. It took time to complete the arduous task. Finally, it was complete and Gamling was laid gently back on the bed, a thin sheet tucked under his arms. Slowly, Aefre rose to face the girl.

"Ma'am, if you are done with my services-"

"No," Aefre was pouring two cups of tea. "I'm not done with you." She lowered herself into one chair and motioned toward the other.

"Now, we talk."

*****


	25. 24 - The Lady of the Save the Blue Whales of Rohan

**_Rider Of The Mark_**

**_Part 24 - The Lady of the Save the Blue Whales of Rohan_**

/

 

_Author's Notes: The Save the Blue Whales of Rohan Brothel belongs to and on the property of Little Balrog, where it lie lanquishing and all that rot until me and the boys took over. ***cracks knuckles*** It's really not mine, I just use it for my own nefarious, perverted ends..._

*****

"My lady?" 

"Please. Sit." Aefre gestured to the empty chair again. The tone of her voice made it clear it was not a request and Eadignes sat down despite her unease.

"M'lady, this is most uncomfortable-" 

"Believe me, it's as uncomfortable for me as it is for you." Aefre picked up her cup and took a dainty sip. She made a sour face. "I think I would prefer mead." She fixed Eadignes with a steely eye. "You?"

It was apparent to Eadignes that she wasn't going to be allowed to go anywhere soon. "That would be nice-"

"Willan." Aefre looked over her shoulder. "A pitcher of mead and-" she squinted out the window, seeing the sun was setting, "Are you hungry?" Aefre addressed the girl. When Eadignes nodded affirmatively, she continued, "A platter of roast chicken and fresh bread."

The two women watched Willan leave the room. Aefre turned back to Eadignes, "You aren't in a hurry to return to the brothel, are you?"

"Uh... no, m'lady... m'lady? Is he always so... quiet?" She indicated Willan's retreating form.

"Do not," Aefre poured more tea for both, "allow his silence to mislead you. Willan is no simpleton, no fool. He is as intelligent as any one, if more so. I value his friendship. He is, as you say, a good man. The fact that he is mute does not make him less of a good man." She took another sip of tea. "I am going to need company over the next few hours. I think you will prove most... interesting to talk with."

Eadignes set her teacup down gently. "M'lady, if it is your desire to pepper me with questions regarding my relationship with the man in your bed, I beg you, please do not. I'm... I work at the brothel. He feels nothing for me. I have no right-"

"You have no right?" Aefre was incredulous. "You have no... ah, Willan." 

As quietly as he had left, the man returned, setting down a tray of cold beef slices, a loaf of bread, and cheese. 

"No fowl? Goose? Chicken?" 

Willan shook his hand, waving it slowly. "Ah, there is merriment and celebration and you took what you could scavenge. No matter. I thank you. Now, hand over the mead!" She noticed three plates and a large pitcher in his hand. "Good - you brought a plate for yourself! I dare say there is enough mead for you as well! I should," she grinned, "have three mugs on the shelf, Willan. You know where I hide them!" Aefre stood in the dimming light, and using flint and steel, lit a candle in order to light a few lamps.

She hovered for a moment over Gamling - no fever yet, but it would come - before returning to her chair. Eadignes had made herself a plate of meat and bread and was savoring the cool drink in the mug Willan had brought.

Willan also made himself a plate and retreated to the darkest corner of the room. He was watching Eadignes with great interest.

The two women ate in silence, Aefre constantly keeping watch over the Horse Lord, Eadignes surreptitiously sneaking glances over her shoulder.  
"You can look at him. I won't bite you for it."

Eadignes' smile was wan. "M'lady, again, if it's your desire-"

"My desire is for a little female company for the next few hours. If Gamling is going to worsen and run a fever, it will happen shortly. I will need someone who is versed in healing herbs, and won't blush at the sight of a naked man." Aefre stood up, dusting breadcrumbs from her skirt, before going to the bed and brushing Gamling's hair from his face.

A crease marred her brow and she laid her hand over his cheeks, neck and, finally, his chest. "The fever begins. He is spiking quickly. Willan, we need lukewarm water constantly as well as cold. And a lot of cloths and towels." Aefre didn't look up, simply began to pull down the sheets covering Gamling. "Now, Willan."

The mute was already moving towards the door, the woman still sitting in the chair now watching him with great interest. She was surprised by the dry towel Aefre threw at her.

"I need your assistance." Aefre was dipping her cloth in the water still in the basin. "Go to the other side and start bathing him down." She started with his face, gently stroking. "Ah, Béma. We might as well really bathe him." She stood up quickly - too quickly, the room spinning wildly for a moment, causing her to reach out and grasp the bedpost until her head cleared, before moving to a small cupboard. "Damn!" She fingered through her soap basket. "All I have are sweet smelling floral..."

 

_***... no sweet smelling softling are you...**_

 

"Ah, no matter. I suspect he'll not know he will smell of roses." 

 

Eadignes was smiling. "I won't tell." Aefre tossed a small square to the younger woman. Taking her own cake of soap, she sat back down next to the soldier, settling in the curve of his lap and pulling the night table up beside her.

 

"When Willan brings the cool water, I'll soak a cloth in it for him to suck on. He won't dehydrate that way. Here," she held the bowl of water over Gamling's chest and nodded. "Dip your cloth in it. It's still slightly warm; just wash any part of skin you see. Just stay away from the bandage."

The girl obeyed, propping Gamling on his unwounded side and starting on his back. Aefre watched as Eadignes reverently lifted his hair away from his shoulder and neck, taking great care to be gentle. The two worked in silence, not noticing that Willan came and went, unobtrusive, bringing fresh water, clean water... 

"You are very good at this."

Eadignes had the decency to blush, making her appear younger, innocent. "Thank you. Sometimes," she hesitated for a moment, before continuing on. "Riders who have no women folk will come in from patrol, needing a healer, but not badly." 

"Just in need of a tender touch?" 

"Aye."

They continued on, bathing, swabbing down the unconscious Rider. Several times, Aefre dipped a smaller cloth into the bowl of cooler water, using it to wipe Gamling's mouth, wetting parched lips and grateful when he sucked the moisture from it. "That's it..." she crooned. Eadignes continued to bathe his back, his shoulders, the temperature of the water cooling and bringing the man's fever down. "Have you ever thought of changing professions?"

"Wha...what?" Eadignes dropped her wet cloth on the mattress. Fumbling nervously, she plucked it up and resumed her bathing a bit too forcefully.

"I mean," Aefre chattered on, focusing on her patient's face, "Unless you prefer working in the brothel-"

"Well.... I..."

You have a gentle hand," she grasped the girl by the wrist, "usually. You took charge of the situation handily enough, putting him in his place. You are forceful when you need to be, your stitching skills are superb..."

"M'lady," Eadignes set her cloth down and rested her hands on her knees. "I see what you are trying to do-" 

"Do you?"

Eadignes motioned for the bowl, dipping her cloth back into the water. "I am a whore. So were my mother and grandmother. My mother still works. There are not many women who would openly welcome me into their rooms or home to tend to their men, their children, or deliver their babes."

"They will if they are desperate enough for your services." 

"Lady Ae-"

"Gamling was the most injured to enter the gates! He is a Marshal, the highest ranking officer in Edoras at this time and they sent me a blind old crone to tend to him! A blind-"

"Zzzz..."

"...old..."

"...zzzgrrrrr..."

"...crone!"

"Aaa-fre-please..." 

At the sound of Gamling's gasping, Aefre looked down sharply to see, to her horror, she had been scrubbing the Rider's face, accentuating each word roughly with the wet cloth. As a result, Gamling's cheek was pushed up somewhere between his eyebrow and ear. One eye was pinched, whereas the other eye was glaring balefully at her. She jerked her hand up, the planes of his face snapping back to their original position. "Béma, Gamling! I'm-"

"S'kay." He snuggled into the bedding, tucking a hand under his pillow. "Stillnotnaked." 

Aefre rubbed her face while Eadignes giggled - a light, girlish sound that Aefre doubted came from the young woman very often. 

"The Marshal has a singular, determined mind, m'lady." 

"Such a man." Aefre set her cloth on the basin and folded the sheets back neatly around Gamling's hip. "Let the air dry his skin and cool him. We'll check his fever every so often." She rose up, eyeing the bottle sitting on the small table between the two chairs. "Willan has brought more... oh... Béma bless the man!" She raised it and saluted Eadignes. "Blackberry wine!" She went to a small shelf and pulled a small casket from the shelf. Opening it, she removed two finely wrought goblets. "This calls for the family's best!" 

Eadignes bounced off the bed, not noticing Gamling's grunt of exasperation. "Blackberry wine? Oh, m'lady, I've not had something that sweet in... oh... forever." She waited for Aefre to fill her goblet before sitting in the chair, her feet tucked daintily, demurely underneath her. 

"You know, Éowyn used to sit just like that when she hid in my rooms." 

"Hid?" Eadignes was savoring small sips of the sweet beverage. "Why would the Lady of Rohan need to hide in Edoras?" 

Aefre was enjoying her own chalice of wine. "Grima Wormtongue." 

Eadignes shuddered. "He was a nasty one. I'm grateful I wasn't his type." 

"Grima came to the brothel?" Aefre squinted over her goblet in order to peer at Gamling, who seemed to be resting peacefully for the moment, "Forgive me, that was a stupid question. No one here in Edoras would have him." 

"No one at the brothel wanted him either. Not meaning to speak ill of the dead, but Fyren was preferable to him!" She drained her goblet and eyed the bottle. "M'lady, may I-" 

"Go ahead." Aefre waved her on. "I want some relief, not total relaxation." She set her goblet down gently. "It's going to be a long night for me." 

Eadignes stopped in mid-pour. "I'll stay if you need me." 

"Will you now?" Aefre slid her goblet with what was left of her drink across the table and nodded to the girl to go ahead and fill it. "Aren't you losing out on business?" 

Eadignes shrugged. "Those with minor injuries and such will come down tomorrow. The girls there will be worn out and I will be fresh for the men who go and go and go like rabbits." 

"So," Aefre picked her goblet back up and studied the hammered detail of the vessel, "you enjoy your job." 

Eadignes drained her chalice. "I didn't say I liked it." 

"Oh," Aefre's eyes never left the goblet. "What would you rather do, besides what you do.... IF you had a choice?" 

The wine was loosening Eadignes' tongue and she sat back, the chalice of wine dangling dangerously between her fingers. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. "Oh, m'lady, I would love to be a healer." 

"Then become one." Eadignes snorted. "Really, Eadignes, The old healer that came to the rooms recommended you. I would be willing to teach you what I know and I would ask the healers to aid in your training." Eadignes was now laughing quietly. "Why do you scoff? Because some may whisper?" 

"M'lady-" Eadignes set her chalice down. "Many WILL whisper. And not so softly." 

"Bah!" Aefre finally took a drink of her wine. "Talk would stop. Eventually." A thought occurred to her. "Wouldn't you like a husband? A family?" 

Eadignes burst out in full laughter. "Who would want me?" 

"A good man." 

Eadignes continued laughing. "M'lady. Your intentions are noble; however, I have no right-" 

"You have every right!" Aefre's tone was raised and she bristled with indignation. "Twice now you have said that! Twice you have said you have no right! You have every right to love and to want someone for yourself!" She drained her chalice angrily. "You have needs as well! Perhaps you should take the time to look for them!" 

Eadignes set her empty goblet down and settled back into her chair. Her eyes glowed in the firelight, a shrewd gleam lurking within. "If I may be so bold, your needs are seen to."

Aefre arched an eyebrow, her voice dangerously low. "Snippiness is not becoming," 

The girl colored slightly. "Your pardon, milady." 

Aefre reached over and poured Eadignes another chalice of wine. "I understand. It must seem that way." Aefre then poured herself another. "I have had to see to my own needs for several years. I had my own household; lands, farmers, shepherds. I lived in the Wold; we housed a garrison, Riders and their families to feed and care for. It was rare when I had a moment to myself to take care of my needs." She gave the diminishing wine in the bottle a contemplative look before picking up her goblet. "It was lonely."

"Sounds like whoring of a different kind to me." 

"It... it was, I suppose." 

Eadignes was leaning back in her chair, lids half shut and getting heavy. "Surely, you could have taken a lover." 

With the suddenness and voracity of summer lightning, the wine Aefre held took on a sour, vinegary taste. "Too tired, most of the time," she admitted reluctantly. "There have been few nights in four years I haven't fallen into bed exhausted since my late husband's death. Besides," her voice dropped to a whisper, "my heart and body go hand in hand." She set the goblet down. 

"Wish I could say the same." Eadignes drained her chalice and set it upside down on the table. "Can I tell you something, I've never told anyone?" Aefre nodded. "When I started... working... at the Blue Whale, I split up my earnings. Most of it went to pay my room and board, the percentage to Wulfric. He's good to us, y'know. Won't let anyone be mean or cruel. If they are too drunk, he throws them into the horse trough and pours water on them. If it was a man I really liked, really cared for, I used those earnings to buy myself something pretty, something nice and I would tell myself that 'he' bought it for me. If it was someone I hated, who made me cringe, made me think of other things besides what was going on above me, I laid that money aside - someday, I would use that money to buy me a small place away from the Blue Whale; away from Edoras, all of it, where no one knew me or what I was. Let it be my 'reward.' I dream of children. I wouldn't want my daughter to end up like my Mama or me." She took a deep breath. "As of late, there are more and more of the ones I tolerate, despise even, less and less of the ones I like." She laughed - a cynical one - to herself. "I'm pathetic, am I not? A real dreamer."

It shocked the girl when Aefre's hand covered hers. "No, you are not." Eadignes looked down at the woman kneeling in front of her. "You have needs as well. You are acknowledging them and planning. That's not pathetic in the least. Only you can walk away from that life. When you are ready, tell me. I'll help, best I can. You deserve that little place away." Aefre looked up at the sound of momentary stirring in her bed.

A restless Horse Lord...

She rose from her haunches, moving to his side, and stroked his forehead.

"Is he running a fever again? I'll get-"

"No. Shhh." Aefre leaned forward, gently brushing beads of sweat from a cool forehead. "Just Gamling?" She saw his mouth moving, sounds, such a quiet whisper. She laid her hand in his ribband-wrapped palm and leaned in closer. "Just Gamling?"

He gripped her, causing her to hiss at the ferocity, the unbelievable strength. "Théoden!" he gasped. "The Orcs! Béma! Look at them..." Blue eyes flew open, unseeing, unfocused. "Sooooo many... Béma!" He pushed down in the bed, thrusting against... Dréogan?... curses sizzling...

"M'lady, I-"

"Get Willan. Tell him I need... I need to do a serious cleansing. He'll know what to do."

"Do you want me to come back? If you need help, I am versed in the Olde Ways..."

"No, no. Just get Willan. You've been wonderful, a great help. Go get some rest." She did not miss the girl's crestfallen look. "Eadignes - I was not lying. When you decide to move on, tell me. I will help you. Honest."

"Béma! Look at... size... bigger than ... Golden Hall... fire..."

Aefre's fingers were turning red, Gamling was squeezing so tightly.

"M'lady-"

"He's... fine. Go get Willan!" Aefre waited a moment. "We'll talk again."

As the chamber door opened and shut behind her, Aefre turned her full attention back to the Rider locked within a nightmare.

***

_***Orcs Béma look at them hundreds of thousands of Orcs and Battle Trolls and Théoden Béma Théoden where did you go the stench of them so loud the chanting the noise won't they ever shut up the... the... the Béma what are they so big so bigger than the Golden Hall rain rain raining arrows and fire Béma is she ever quiet Bring it down bring it down bring it down to the ground burning our dead get the marks find every one Aefre stupid stupid woman going to war not here not here Eowyn nononono Fyren will die a slow death if she doesn't Éomer stop your screaming I can't think or see the noise Béma Béma the noise can't stand it die you loathsome foul the horde the horde oh my oh Béma Eagles to soar like a Nazgul Théoden my fault my fault Éomer stop SCREAMING she loves him and you can't stop it frumpy frumpy princess for The Eye... oh... the Gates of Mordor are falling down falling down falling down the Gates of Mordor are falling down my fair Aefre wash the ribband I should wash it clean can't take it off ...***_

"I call the Watchtower of the North, Guardian of the powers of Earth..."

_***...Yesyesyes call them all the Dead the dying screaming chanting chanting never stop the bones crushed Béma take you swiftly swiftly on his wings the wings of the Nazgul the air so far far away from home Orcs in the Riddermark trolls burning children fighting what have we done leaving them alone for so long to fight those things the Haradhrim rode Mumakils kill them all bring out your dead bring out your ales and women and display them proudly but they aren't Rohirrim they aren't Aefre they Béma Béma the stench burning our dead burning burning...***_

"...Guardian of the South, defend this space from any ill of Fire..."

_*** Burning fire fire Théoden did you know Snowmane breathes fire and flies with the greatest of ease and eats Orcs and the whores from the brothel...***_

"...No ghosts of ill are welcome here..."

_*** Nonono ghosts dead dead Army of the Dead you're released the Ranger released you go away away away not welcome can't breathe it hurts it hurts oh Béma the pain Théoden wake up wake up Gandalf Greyhame you are not welcome here wake up wake up Théoden nononono Éomer not ready not ready I'm not ready nononono wake up wake up...***_

"...I banish thee..."

_*** Banish banish the Eye the Orcs the troll those things things the Haradhrim...***_

"...I banish thee..."

_*** Aefre nonono don't banish me. I tried I tried to get to him but the Orcs were in the way couldn't reach him Théoden wake up wake up..***._

"...I banish thee..."

_*** Noooooo .... nopleasedontbanishme...***_

"...With this smoke I cleanse this room..."

_***Don't leave me...***_

"...With this smoke, I cleanse this woman..."

_*** don't leave me...***_

"...With this smoke, I cleanse this man..."

_***Aefre don't leave me please pleaseplease...***_

"Just Gamling?"

_*** Aefre...***_

"Come now, Just Gamling. Time to wake up."

"Don't banish me..."

A soft chuckle.

"No, I'll not banish you, if you behave yourself. You've missed the most beautiful sunrise..."

_*** Sunrise Schmunrise don't leave me don't banish me...***_

"I have apples for Dréogan. A whole barrel full..."

Blue eyes snap open, clear...

"Do NOT spoil my horse!" 

*****


	26. 25 - Blue Moon Over Rohan

****

Rider Of The Mark 

****

Chapter 25 

****

Full Moon Over Rohan 

*****

"No."

"Gamling! You are being ridiculous and hard-headed."

_***nonononononono***_

"No."

"And obstinate!"

Gamling leaned weakly against the bedpost, feet dangling over the edge of the bed. "No."

"Gamling," Aefre stood in front of him, arms crossed. "Your self-control is admirable, but if you keep this up, you'll get really sick!" She nudged the chamber pot closer with her foot. "I know you need to go. You woke up with quite the impressive battle lance this morning," she winked.

"No."

"Look," Aefre's good humor raced away on the winds, "you have consumed quite a lot of liquids over the last twelve hours and I would rather not have a mess to clean up. I'll help you-"

"Don't Touch It!" Gamling wadded the covers over his lap and glared. "I do not need help!"

"Fine!" Aefre retorted, "Aim it out the window for all I care, oh Great Archer of Rohan!" 

Gamling looked over his shoulder towards the window.

_***...can't tell which way the wind is blowing. If I aim at the crossbeam, considering the distance...***_

"What are you doing?"

"Judging the trajectory. If I aim just so..." Gamling arched the imaginary, suspected path with his finger...

"Don't you dare!"

"You suggested it!"

"I think," Aefre's hands were on her hips and the scowl Gamling was so familiar with was planted firmly on her face, "you are the most insufferable, exasperating, difficult-"

"Cretin, hairy lummox, behemoth, warg-riding man you have met!" Gamling was wheezing from exertion...

_***... would you leave and give me a moment's privacy...imdyingdyingi... gotta... go... gottagogott...***_

"Did I miss anything? Dolt? Bonehead? Béma, woman, I haven't had to have this much help since I was a babe in swaddling clothes!"

"Gamling," Aefre cajoled a bit forcefully, "you have had a substantial, horrific injury-"

"Not so substantial that I need your help so I can take a piss!" Gamling was up to a resounding bellow.

"I don't want you to dribble on my bed!"

As the door was closed, the two were unaware of the growing crowd out in the hall, snickering at the absurd argument going on within the chambers. An outraged roar was heard from the room.

"Am I an old man? Béma... forbid I should... drip on your bed!"

Aefre settled back on one hip, arms still crossed. "All Béma's children have to pee sometime, Gamling!" She cocked an eyebrow. "I can wait."

_*** yesyesyesyoucanwaituntilwebringTheodenhomehomeimdying...gottagogogogog...***_

Gamling planted both feet on the wood floor and painfully pulled himself up, Aefre looking on in horror.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I, My Lady," he gritted between clenched teeth, "am going to my chambers-"

"Why, that's just ludicrous! You have no clothes and you... you... you couldn't get to the door!" She stepped forward to help him sit back down. "Gam-"

He shoved his finger in her face. "Don't touch it! Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" He was white around the mouth. "You are NOT my mother, woman! I can take care of myself, without your... hovering!"

Aefre jerked back, shocked at the angry vehemence in his demeanor. She blinked rapidly. It was too late, when Gamling finally realized how deep his words had cut. "You are correct, M'lord Marshal." Her words were a whispered hiss. "Far be it for me to assist you in anything. Obviously, you do not wish my aid or services; I'll find someone else to see to your needs." Before the Horse Lord could call out, Aefre turned on her heel and stormed from the room, paying no heed to the flock of serving women who suddenly paired off, discussing the weather, food, and the cracks in the walls. She stomped through the kitchen, into the herb garden, where Willan was weeding and tying up new shoots.

"That...that... man! That dullard... he... he..." Willan stood up and looked at her cryptically. "He won't use the chamber pot! He's drunk a pitcher of water and two bowls of broth and he won't... he won't... Damn him!" She raked her arm over her nose. "Why must he be so defiant? He acts as if he thinks I want to hold his... his... his... little Horse Lord!"

Willan reached over, brushing the errant tear from her cheek, inspecting the minuscule droplet on the tip of his finger. With a scowl, he handed her the hoe, he pointed to the area where he had left off. The last Aefre saw of him, he was rolling his sleeves up in determination as he walked up to the Golden Hall.

***

Gamling had managed four steps before deciding getting to his chambers on his own was not going to happen anytime soon. He turned and sank back down on the bed, eyeing the chamber pot on the floor.

_***Too damn far out stupid womanthing is too smalldid she honestly expect me togointhat in front of her... gottagoooo...***_

He reached out with his foot to see if he could nudge it closer.

_***gottagodammitdammit...***_

He reached out with his other foot to see if he could...

_***dammitdammitdammit....just a little bit more...***_

The door swung open.

Gamling grabbed the edges of the light quilt and threw it over his lap, ready to lambaste whoever had come into the room-

"Willan! Am I glad to see you!"

Willan set the door shut quietly and looked at the haggard Horse Lord.

He grinned-

"Do you think you could move this..."

\- evilly -

"... closer?"

Willan laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.

_*** uh oh... oh noooo...***_

"No! Don't even think about it!" Gamling scooted backwards on the bed - all of one hand span. "I do not need help!" He proceeded to glare down the towering giant. Truth be told, Willan was impressed with the endeavor. He ambled over and looked down at the chamber pot. He knitted his eyebrows together in consternation.

 _*In this?*_ He pointed down.

"Yesyesyes, in that little thing!"

_***gottagogottagoooooo***_

Willan shook his head in disgust and turned to the fireplace. Picking up a poker, he rustled around the ashes looking...

"Willan," Gamling was winded, the labor of his attempted escape thoroughly exhausting him, "could you push this damn bowl closer?"

The mute lifted a single finger. _*Wait.*_

"A minute? A minute?" Willan picked up the ash bucket and began to shovel the ashes into it. "Willan, I'm dying. I'm in dire... can't you clean the damned fireplace later?"

Willan turned, clearly bemused by the annoyed tone of the Rider. He crossed the small room, kicking the chamber pot away and set the much larger, half - filled ash bucket between the Rider's feet. He crooked his fingers. _*Move forward.*_

With a grunt of pain, Gamling scooted forward to the edge of the bed, knuckles now as white as his face. "Dammit, I'm still going to dribble on her bed linens!"

Willan reached behind to his waist belt and presented the injured man with three clean drying cloths.

"Béma, bless you!" Gamling grabbed the cloths and began to tuck and drape them in the appropriate places.

_***BémablessyoublessyoublessedreliefeI'llnever drinkagainuntilI'mupand walkingonmy owntwofeet...***_

Willan had turned his back and was again rustling in the fireplace.

"Thank you." The giant lifted the hand without the poker and curled two fingers, wagging them in and out.

"Yes! I shook! Béma! I'm not a..." Gamling realized Willan's shoulders were shaking with silent mirth. "Oh, very funny! Make fun of the Marshal while you can! You're as bad as she is!" With an excruciating groan, Gamling nudged back slowly on the bed, wadding the cloths Willan had given him-

_***Hah! Not a drop! Okay, maybe one! But still...***_

\- and attempted to throw them in a corner. Willan turned in time to see the three fluttering gently to the ground.

_***Dammit!***_

"Dammit! Sorry." The Rider in the bed was grunting with the strain on his injured and stitched side. "Béma, that hurts!" From nowhere, strong arms wrapped around his waist, gently moving him up the bed. Deftly, Willan tilted him, infinitely compassionate fingers, propping him up, making sure no weight rested on his bandaged side. 

And sniffed... twice, curling his nose in distaste.

"Thank you, Willan. And yes. I smell like... roses," Gamling snarled. "Damned unmanly!"

The mute dipped his head and proceeded to pick up the discarded cloths, clothing, and a bloodied sheet left over from the previous night. "You can tell Aefre she can return now."

Willan straightened up, looking over his shoulder at Gamling, a scowl on his face. He shook his head sharply.

"No?"

With a single finger, Willan traced a path down his cheek. Gamling sighed.

"I'm sorry I made her cry. But Béma, Willan! She was... hanging over me!" He crossed his arms, sullenly. "I didn't need help..." Willan turned, cocked an eyebrow, casting a glance at the ash bucket.

_***Better rephrase that...***_

"I didn't need her help." Willan tilted his head. "Béma, Willan! It's damned... embarrassing!" Gamling curled on his uninjured side, his eyes getting heavy. "I'll apologize... when... I see... her..."

Willan shook his head, waiting until the Horse Lord dropped off into a healing sleep, before covering him up and opening the small window to air the room.

However, Gamling didn't see her for lunch; he slept through. Dinner was a blur. In fact, the next four days were a blur.

_***The tea is drugged. So is the broth. It has to be. Dammit! Dammit! I'll... I'll have a ... word with ... some.. one... when I wake... up...***_

He thought he remembered Haleth coming in, to leave bowls or take discarded dishes. He remembered growling at Willan?... Eadignes?... once, when they changed his bandages and cleaned the wound site... The ash bucket was always set nearby, convenient, with cloths laid within reach. Sometimes, he thought... thought... he saw Aefre leaning over him. Deep in the recesses of his dreams, he heard her; felt her presence, her touch. There were times he dreamed, thoughts jumbled, fond memories perverted...

_***Aefre riding a Mumakil, Aefre in Orc armour and skins, hundreds of thousands of Aefres streaming from the Black Gates, all weapons pointed at him... Orc Aefres, Battle Troll Aefres... Aefre in white robes high on the Tower of Isengard, shouting obscenities and cat calls, only to be stabbed in the back by himself - his Rider's cloak saturated with blood...***_

Gamling jerked, sat up straight, wide-awake, breath labored, his side on fire...

_***Béma!***_

He had just finished taking care of necessary business and had moved back -

_***...dammit Dammit! Where are my clothes? If I'm going to be naked, I want Aefre in bed with me...***_

-under the covers, when the door opened and the grey head of a grizzled old woman peeked in. 

"You're up? Good!" She bustled in, a basket of jars and bandages on her arm. "I need to change your wrapping." 

"Where's Aefre?"

The woman ignored the question and sat down next to him, pulling at the bandages. "You are very lucky. You were badly wounded and that whore-" 

"Eadignes." 

She looked at him, perturbed at the interruption. "That woman from the brothel - lift your arm - did a fine job stitching you up. Let's see..." she peered beneath the bandages. 

"Where's Aefre?" 

"You're healing right along." The old woman sounded forcefully jovial. "Not much redness or swe-"

"Mother, it's good to see you, but I want Aefre." 

The woman put the jar of ointment down and looked the Rider unabashedly in the eye. "The argument the two of you had the other morning has been the most talked about topic in years! That good - for - nothing cook couldn't wait to tell me what shenanigans you had been up to! And with a high - ranking Lady! I raised you better than that! I had to tell that old busy body her chickens were burning! Twenty years I've been gone from this busy place and nothing has changed! Cook acting like she owns the place and you being disrespectful! I can't imagine what you have put that poor woman through! Aye, she has sent others with food and ointment and bandages, but she made this-" she shook the jar at him, "has cut your bandages, nosed over the broth and made the healing herbal mixtures to put in it, in your broth, your tea. She checks on you when you sleep; worries over you and had no one but a whore to keep her company as she waited for a fever she knew would come! And bathed you when it did! And how do you repay her?" His mother was now standing up, hands on her hip... 

_***Oh! Béma! Just like Aefre... I am so doooomed... Béma take me now...***_

"...How do you thank her? You holler like a mewling three year old!" She sat back down on the bed with a heavy thud- 

_***owowowowowowowBémamother!owowowow!***_

... a murderous maternal gleam in her eye. "Your father should throw horse shoes from the heavens and conk you on your hairy head! I just might take a shoe from the blacksmith and do it myself!"

Gamling sighed heavily. "Mother, it's been diffi-" 

"Here!" She shoved a cup in his hand. "It's caffe - weak, but not drugged. You are going to get your lazy arse from the bed today and start moving around!" Gamling nosed over the cooling liquid. 

_***weak? It's colored water...***_

"Mother, it's been-" 

"What's her name?" 

_***...you know what her name is! I know you! You probably know more about her than I do!***_

"Aefre." 

"Of the Wold?" She was deep in thought. 

"You know her?" 

"No... no... " she waved a dismissive hand. "Met her parents once. She was a babe. Tiny thing, big brown eyes. Mother was a demure little thing; father was wild. Your father," she wagged an un-motherly finger in her son's face,

_***Argh! Another wagging finger...***_

"...said he was insane in battle; had the gentlest hand with horses. We bought a few from him. In fact," She tapped him lightly on the shoulder, "your first horse was from their herd!" 

_***Wonderful. I forgot she talks more than Aefre...***_

"Moth-" 

"Lufian's widow?" 

"Ye-" 

"She's... 38...39 summers?" 

"Well, I..." 

"Really, Gamling! Don't you know anything about her? Drink up, don't slouch; you're getting soft, laying abed nine days!"

Gamling spewed in his mug, caffe splattering everywhere. 

"Nine? It's been four... five..."

"Nine? You were out THREE!" Gamling's mother was now standing, putting ointments and unused bandages back in the basket.

_***threethreethreedaysBémeaanadI complained about...***_

"And you yelling about using the chamber pot! I can't imagine what she went through with you for three days! Your sisters never gave me this much trouble, even when I helped them birth their babies!"

Gamling leaned back slowly against the head of the bed, into the pillows. "How are they?" 

His mother sighed. She saw the immediate turn around in her son's demeanor. "They are fine. Beornia's eldest boy was given his first colt to break and train last winter. I know he would preen like a certain boy I raised if his favorite uncle came for a few days to give him some pointers... We'll talk about that later." She stopped for a moment deep in thought. "This... Aefre... Do you care for her at all?" 

_***Care? Care??? She's...***_

"Yes." It was whispered. 

"She's not... well, Gamling. She looks tired, drawn. She doesn't eat and I hear she's not been keeping what little she does eat down the last two days." She went to the door, placed a hand on the latch. "She's staying in your chambers. Maybe, if you can manage to get out of bed, you can talk her into seeing the healer. I'd be careful. That cut was deep, but you've been bound tight." She started to turn the latch, but hesitated. She had her back to the man and he could see she was blinking back tears. "I'm... glad I wasn't called back to Edoras to bury you, to sing you to the arms of Béma, Gamling. So many didn't return home. Many of ours didn't return home." She turned slightly over her shoulder, profile clearly defined. "Go make up with your lady. I have no complaint with her care of you." 

Gamling's heard rather than saw her leave. 

_***Three days... Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Where are my clothes?***_

The Marshal did manage to pull himself from the bed; even managed to get around the room a time or two before tiring and having to lie down and rest. By the next morning, sometime after breakfast, he deduced he had no clothing in the room. 

He asked Willan for leggings. The mute shrugged and left with the ash bucket. 

He asked his mother when she brought him lunch.

"Ask Aefre" 

"Béma! I can't ask Aefre if she isn't here!" 

"Go find her." 

"Find her? How am I supposed to find her if I have no clothes?" 

She looked at him mischievously. "I didn't raise a simpleton, boy! You figure it out!"

Dinner came and went. 

No clothes. 

The sun went down. Gamling had managed three trips around the room before deciding the only way he was going to find clothing was to go and get them. He didn't feel right going through Aefre's wardrobe - what would she have that fit him anyway? 

_***what to wear... what to wear...***_

Racking his brain, he spied the loose, linen sheet on the bed. 

_***That'll go around. The sun is down, dinner is over, The Hall should be quiet, there are enough back halls...***_

He yanked the sheet from the bed, wincing at the pulling at the stitches in his side. The muscle beneath was knitting; he had been bound so tight at times he could hardly breath and he knew deep down that his side would probably pain him on and off for the rest of his life. He wrapped the short sheet around his midriff, making sure his more... Horse Lordly parts were covered. He grabbed the trailing ends in a wad and tied them securely behind him in a knot. Quietly, he slid the door open, sticking his head out, looking both ways. 

_***No one. Good.***_

The hall loomed long and dark in front of him, wall sconces lit few and far apart. As quietly as possible, he tiptoed out... 

_***The wall... The wall... would be good... solid...***_

... finding the wall and bracing himself. His mind was set, fixed on a single goal... 

_***Second intersection, turn left. third hall, go left, around the corner.... my chambers, third door on the right... Béma my side's on fire... maybe I can make it...***_

Gamling made it to the proper hall, turning left. It galled him at how out of breath he was, how winded, tired... 

_***Béma, I'm old. Old and decrepit***_

He leaned against the wall. 

_***A minute... that's all I need... a minute...***_

"Good eve, Marshal. Good to see you up and about." A young tiring woman came from around the corner, a basket of clean linens in her arms. She was smiling too broadly. 

"Thank you." Gamling nodded curtly. He waited until she moved on, wondering why she started giggling once she was out of sight. He managed another... four... five... meters... 

"Sir!" Haleth came running around a hidden corridor, a huge smile on his face. The youngling came to a crashing halt in front of him. "It's good to see you moving! We've been worried." 

"Haleth." Gamling was working hard not to wheeze. "You're here... safe..." 

"Aye. Very safe. Thank you, sir." 

Gamling's eyes were closed, concentrating hard on the pinpoints of light behind his eyelids and feeling the wood from the wall pressing into the shoulder he was leaning on. "Haleth. You've never... sirred me a day in your life. Don't start now." 

"Yes si... Gamling." 

Gamling lurched forward a few more steps, firmly focused on the next turn. "At least ... not until you've started your Rider training under my command." He nodded at his friend's son. 

And wondered why the boy was giggling when he went on. He made it to the third hall, realized it was really the second hall, backtracked to the proper third- 

"Good to see you, Marshal." The chambermaid passed him. "Didn't realize there was a full moon over Rohan tonight." 

Another chambermaid, coming from the room coming around him, was carrying another basket, this one with dirty linens. "Good evening sir. Feeling ...cheeky tonight?" 

"Good... uh... well..." 

She breezed by him around the corner, snickering... 

_***Full moon?... cheeky?...***_

He shifted, placing his back completely against the wall... 

...and felt the coolness of the wall down his bare backside... 

_***SHITE!!!!***_

A trip that under normal circumstances took about five minutes took what felt like an eternity, the respected Marshal slowly backing down the hallway and trying to act as if it was a normal, natural everyday occurrence that a grown man always traipsed about the halls draped in a bed sheet. There were smiles, scandalized glances... 

"Oh my SIR! Are you sure you should be out and about dressed as... oh MY!" 

"Love the filmy attire sir. It's your color!" 

The occasional wolf whistle... 

Gamling was exhausted, winded, by the time he could finally see his chambers. Had anyone told him in the months previous how glad he would be to see Grima Wormtongue's rooms, he would have scoffed and told them they had been in Wulfric's finer ales! But the door, its latch gleaming dully in the candlelight, called like a beacon and it was with a great sigh of relief that the man was finally able to open the door and slide in, closing behind him the snickers, the catcalls, the snide jokes- 

_***I'm going to hear about this for weeks, I know it, I'll never live it down...***_

The door clicked behind him, his eyes adjusting to the trickle of moonlight. He could see the outline of someone... her... in his bed, curled on her side, breathing deeply. 

_***FINALLY! FINALLY! Naked in MY bed!***_

Gamling dropped the sheet and limped stiffly to the bed, his side, his body burning with strain on his side. With a sigh of relief, he pulled the covers back and sank on the bed. He could clearly see Aefre's dark hair, tied back in a long braid. Even in sleep, he could see the dark circles under her eyes. She looked pale, unrested. 

_***So angry over a chamber pot, I couldn't see what was so obvious. She's worked to the bone, probably up too early and to bed too late. And me. Threedamndays***_

As he slid beneath the covers, one hand slid beneath the pillows, drawing her in, cradling her close. As she burrowed in, he sank his nose into her hair -

_***appleappleapples***_

\- heard her sigh... "Just Gamling?" 

"Yes?" 

Aefre stiffened up, her eyes flew open, glittering in the moonlight. "Gam-" 

"I-" he shushed her, "am a bonehead, a warg-riding Orc, a dullard, a cretin, a behemoth. I'm insensitive, a bore. You can yell at me; I deserve it. Just please don't leave me, I've already showed my bare arse to every evening chambermaid in Edoras and I don't want to show it to everyone else chasing you down. And don't ask me to use the chamber pot in front of you." 

There was a few seconds of silence, Aefre's jaw hanging agape, Gamling holding his breath...

"You are SUCH a man!" She burst out laughing. "I was going to leave the room; I just wanted to help you to the edge of the bed!" 

"Béma forbid I should drip." Gamling was trying hard not to laugh; it hurt so. 

Aefre was fingering the edge of the bandage on his chest. "I was so scared, so scared, Gamling. Only one other time had I cared for one as badly injured as you... and he... and he..." she had started to- 

_***Shite! You are such an Orc, you made her cry... ***_

"... and you had... nightmares... horrible, screaming nightmares.... and fevers... up and down , they would spike, I didn't sleep and you were sick... and... and... Béma... Gamling, I never thought a man could.... vomit..." He clenched her as closely as possible," ... so much... and you finally wake up and you yelled at me! You yelled at me over the chamber pot!" 

"I'm sorry-" 

She stifled a heavy sob. "You are the most apologetic Rider I have ever met!" 

"So you have said before." 

He waited for her to calm down, rubbing the fabric of her sleeping...

_***Is this my tunic? What is she doing sleeping in my tunic?***_

...between his fingers. "When did my mother arrive?"

Aefre hiccupped once before answering. "Six days ago. I asked Haleth if he knew where your family lived and he gave the directions to Abéodan. He rode out to let her know you lived, but were in Edoras, injured. Last thing I expected was to see her riding up to the city on the back of the biggest brute of a horse I've ever seen!"

"Big black horse? Shaggy mane?" Aefre nodded into his chest. "Insane woman! And at her age!" he hissed. 

"She came in, told the cook that her chicken was burning and that she needed to teach someone to peel potatoes right. She told Rheda that the sheets weren't hung right on the line and then ordered Willan to see to her horse, as she didn't think 'the little stableboy' could handle him!"

_***she's right...***_

"I don't know who sent her to my rooms, but I'm surprised we didn't wake you with our arguing. She might be your Mother, Gamling, but no one is going to come into my room and tell me how to deal with a sick man! And questions! Béma, she asked me so many questions!"

Gamling's eyelids were getting heavy and he stifled a yawn. "If you must know, she told me she had no misgivings about your care - a great compliment to you. She also said you weren't well and weren't keeping food down." He waited for her to acknowledge his statement. "You have earned some rest, as far as I'm concerned. Tomorrow, let mother run Edoras. You are to sleep in and catch up on rest."

"Gamling!" Aefre turned her back to him and spooned against him, a sensation the Rider decided he liked. "I can't lie abed with you the entire day! People will talk!"

"Let them. I'll show them my bare, naked arse again and they will have something else to talk about!" He kissed the bare spot on her neck. "Don't make me have Willan put sleeping herbs in YOUR tea! Go to sleep."

Unfortunately, Aefre didn't sleep well that night. Gamling awoke with the rising of the sun at the sound of retching.

He opened his eyes to see Aefre kneeling over the chamber pot. Heaving. 

*****


	27. 26 - You can't catch me 'cuz the rabbit done... done... done WHAT?

**__**

Rider of the Mark 26

 **__**

You can’t catch me, cuz the rabbit done...done what?

***

Aefre was adamant she didn't need a healer. 

She needed peace and relaxation and she didn't need an invalid Rider looming over her demanding she do this and that. 

"Invalid?" Gamling roared. "Look here, you-" He stopped suddenly, finger thrust in her face, his features as furious as hers. He dropped his hand, shoulders. "Aefre, please," he pleaded. "You've been on edge and overworked for over two months. You've taken care of me for eleven... twelve days. You've taken care of everyone else for how long?" He reached out, grasping her hand and pulled her to him. "Take care of yourself for once. See the healer for me. If you need rest, she'll tell you." Gingerly, he pulled her into his embrace. She stiffened, gasping for air. "Aefre?" 

"It's alright." Aefre stepped back a little, her hand slowly massaging her breast. "I think I have pulled a muscle. I've been sore for over a week now." she admitted sheepishly. "Maybe I should see the healer. Maybe she'll have something to help me that I don't know about." 

Aefre didn't return that morning. Gamling napped here and there, sleeping less now that he wasn't taking drugged teas and broths... healing in truth finally. When lunch came and went and there was still no Aefre, Gamling rummaged through his wardrobe, taking note of the clean, repaired and new - 

_***Where did this come from? This is a different cut... different length... Béma! BLUE???? BLUE??? I don't wear blue...***_

\- clothing, before grabbing a pair of leggings and a loose red tunic. He was winded twice, getting the leggings on, but once he actually got them up around his waist, he managed to lace them up securely. He threw on his shirt, wincing as he pulled it over his head and didn't bother with the neck or wrist ties. Warily, he opened the door and slowly made his way into the Great Hall, acknowledging the over-bright and knowing smiles as he passed. He found his mother with another older woman, marking a large bolt of fine green wool with a piece of chalk. 

"I see you've found your clothes." She didn't look up. 

Gamling grunted in acknowledgment. His mother raised an eyebrow at the lack of answer, but tallied it to prolonged illness. 

"Aelwydd? Will this be long enough?" the other seamstress asked. 

"Let me see. Gamling! Hold still." She grabbed the cloth and proceeded to drape it around Gamling's shoulders and neck, allowing the rest to fall about the floor. "Don't stand there... hold it!" 

Obeying her was automatic. Gamling's hands moved to hold the fabric at his throat. "Who is this for?" 

"You."

"Me?" He removed the cloth from his shoulders and turned to see his mother talking to the other seamstress, making note of the fall. "I don't need a new cloak! The one I have is fine!"

The two elderly women glanced at each other, Aelwydd still holding her thumb on the cloth where she had mentally marked it. She placed it on the table, her thumb still in place. "Mark here, Helgarda. Yes, Gamling, you do." 

Arguing with his mother was a lost cause. He had learned that lesson well at an early age. There was many a memory of him and his father, sneaking off to the river to fish or go out into the fields to watch the herds when she got into one of her moods.

"Fine. Did Aefre see the healer this morning?" 

The two women looked at each other again, one coloring, the other shrugging before continuing to lay out the fabric and marking the remaining edges. "Aye,” the seamstress finally answered. “She saw me.”

Gamling waited for a minute. Waiting... 

"And?" 

His mother continued working, her back to him. "And what?" 

Standing was becoming painful. He sat down on the bench. "And what is wrong?" 

"Well, I don't know, Gamling. I wasn't there." His mother continued to calmly mark the cloth. "Why don't you go find Aefre and ask her?" 

_***Ask her? Ask who? Aefre? The Healer??? Say hello to my mother, Mistress at speaking in circles!***_

“If you saw her-”

“You should talk to her, m’lord.” The healer/seamstress never looked up.

Gamling was trying not to breathe hard - his side was on fire and the pain was almost nauseating. Maybe standing was better. “Fine. Mother,” he pulled himself up, “do you know where she might be?”

“I am not - cut a little wider there, Helgarda. I want to make sure there is plenty of room - your lady’s keeper.” 

_***Thank you much, mother. You are no help!***_

“Can you give me a hint? Kitchens? Her room?” An apple and carrot materialized at his elbow, a giant hand clamping him on the shoulder.

“Maybe the stable, Gamling.” His mother still hadn’t looked up. Gamling looked over his shoulder to see Willan foolishly grinning at him, nodding towards the stables. 

“Thank you,” he replied to both, taking the equine treats offered. 

He managed two steps before his mother called out, “Don’t you think you should at least put on your boots? Walking barefoot in the stables is a dangerous thing.”

_***My boots? My boots are up in my rooms, ‘twill take me forever to get there, longer to put them on and Béma knows how long to get back! It will hurt and I’ll be tired and will probably have to lie down and dammitdammit I’m sick of being an invalid and tired and sore...***_

“I’ve walked barefoot in the stables before, Mother.”

Aelwydd waited until he had gone through the doors, obviously leaving through the kitchens. “Aye, he has,” she confided to Helgarda. “Steps in horse shite, every time!”

Gamling went through the kitchens, the cook nodding profusely at his presence, the serving women and assistants giggling. “Glad to see you found your clothing, sir.” The cook had a large boar turning slowly on a spit over an open fire and his mouth watered at the smell.

_***Enough broth! I’m a man! I need food! Real food...***_

“Is that for the evening meal?”

“Aye.” The large woman was lording over a kettle of slow cooking green beans, dropping bits of pork fat into it. “I take it you’re tired of sickroom fare? I’ll make sure you get a good cut from the loin, m’lord. Good t’see you up and about,” she stirred once, “and properly clothed.”

Gamling snarled to himself, grabbed an apple tart, ducking the cook’s slapping hand, before making his way through the outer kitchens and into the yard, chickens clucking and fussing as he walked over the path, watching for droppings and -

_***ouchouchouchouchowowowowow***_

\- rocks and stones. He licked the final crumbs of the tart from his fingers and picked his way to the stables, the yard, to see Haleth hanging on the fence, a large chestnut - 

_***Dréogan? What’s Dréogan-***_

\- trotting obstinately, ears back, around the corral. He limped up stiffly, Adenydd was in an adjoining outdoor pen and Aefre was in the corral with *his* war destrier - HIS stallion - that wouldn’t let anyone saddle him, much less harness him, on a long lead tether. She was carrying a long-handled whip.

“Hi-yah!” Aefre cracked the long whip, flicking the dust right behind his rear hooves. Dréogan kicked up a notch in his trot, clearly not happy, tossing his mane with an angry snort.

_****Not happy, but obeying. You’re a well-trained horse, Dréogan, and she’s not bad either.***_

Tapping Haleth lightly on the shoulder, he motioned for the boy to open the gate and waited until Dréogan passed it before moving into the center of the ring. Her back was to him as she turned and she jumped slightly when he tapped her on the shoulder and took the lead with his good hand.

Aefre stopped back, acquiescing, and handing him the whip. “He’s not broken a sweat yet.”

“He will.” Gamling whistled sharply, Dréogan immediately recognizing the voice of his Rider. His head and ears went up and for thirty minutes he obeyed Gamling’s whistled and one worded comments, not stopping until the horse was in a fine, beaded sweat. “Have you lunged Adenydd?” Gamling slowed his mount into a cooling- off walk. 

“Aye. She was first.” Aefre hesitated for a moment. “May I put her in Dréogan’s stall for a short time? I want to pick hers.”

Gamling nodded, carefully watching the gait of his horse. “Hmm hmm... strange...” He joined Aefre in the barn, ten minutes later, moving slowly. Working Dréogan had been as much of a workout for him as well as his horse. He was exhausted and he didn’t know if he was going to be able to stay awake long enough for the pork loin the cook had promised him. Adenydd had her head hanging over Dréogan’s stall door, looking for her friend. He gave her the carrot tucked in his waistband. “Sorry, girl. Dréogan was about to lose a shoe and I had Haleth take him to see Cynn.” He scratched her nose. “He’ll be down soon enough.” He made his way to Adenydd’s stall, side stepping a large horse dropping,

_***Oh, that would be nasty! Mother would never let me live it down***_

The stall door was open and for several minutes, he watched as Aefre picked and cleaned her horse’s stall; quick, efficient movements, pitching chips into the muck bucket. Her hair was lashed back haphazardly, a few tendrils escaping, framing her face in sweaty ringlets, her skirts tied up at her thighs. She had her back to him.

“Aefre? Did you see the healer?”

“Yes.” She shoved the pick into the sawdust a bit on the hard side.

“And what did she say?”

Aefre’s breath was labored from the hard work, her shoulders set. “She said I’m as healthy as my horse.”

Gamling came into the stall, mindful of the picked through shavings. “Then why are you sick?”

“I’m fine.”

“Puking your guts is NOT fine! Maybe you should see another healer?”

Aefre stopped picking and dropped her head. She looked once at him, woefully, and Gamling almost stepped back at the confusion in the stare. She dropped her head. “I’moneoftheblessed.” she mumbled.

Gamling made his way further into the stall, still mindful of the chips. “What?”

“I said,” she spat tersely, “I am one of the Blessed!”

Gamling scratched his head. 

_***Crazy woman! Been hanging out with my mother too much! Blessed? Blessed Béma, what in Arda are you talking about?***_

“Aefre, I’m confused. One of the Blessed... What do-”

She spun, shavings flying, tears welling. “One of the Blessed... meaning one who conceived right about the time the Eorlings rode to Gondor!”

Gamling blinked “One... who conceived...”

“Béma help us all!” She threw her hands on her hips. “I’m pregnant, Gamling!”

The air was still, no sound...

“You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“Well, that’s what pregnant means!” Tears that had been threatening finally spilled over. “I’m... pregnant and I don’t know what to do!”

Gamling reached over and enveloped her in a bear hug, stepping in a horse pile and caring less. “It’s all right, Aefre-”

“No, it’s not all right!” She stamped once petulantly, punctuating the word ‘not’. “I don’t know what to do! I’m old-”

He pulled the sobbing woman in tighter. “If you’re old, I’m ancient.”

“That’s the point, Gamling!” She thrust back, breaking free of his hold. “We are getting a late start. Most parents our age; their children are near grown!” She turned her back on him, arms crossed, shoulders heaving, addressing the cobwebs in the rafters of the barn. “Do you know what scares me the most?” she continued on in a rush, not waiting for him to answer. “How little I know you. I’ve spent days talking... nay... listening to your mother tell me of you, your childhood, your family. I cannot... connect,” her hands were in an empty, nervous stranglehold of the air above her head, “in my mind, the impish, playful, laughing boy she told me about, with the stoic, serious, bullheaded man I love! I don’t know you and I’m going to have your baby!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We happened too fast. This happened too fast. All those years... I tried... I had given up... ever... and now...” She leaned forward, head lightly smacking the stall fencing. “So many... years... I don’t know...” Sobs she had been holding back broke free, open. “Dammit! I’ve... I’ve... never cried so much in ... my... life!” From nowhere, arms stole around her, turning her around, and pulling her into a strong - if well bandaged chest. “I’m scared... and I’m happy... and I’m worried...”

_***That makes two of us. We are well matched...***_

“Do you love me?”

“YESSSSSS!” Aefre wailed.

“Then we’ll be fine.”

Aefre finally looked up, red-eyed and splotched eyes still teary...

_***AAAAACK!***_

“Gamling?”

“Hmm hmm?”

“You’re barefoot and you’ve stepped in horse shite.”

Self consciously, he began to rub his foot in the sawdust. “Yes.”

Aefre was turning pale. “I need some air. I think I’m going to be sick...” She pulled away from him, running to the barn doors and not making it.

“Aim for the muck pile.” Gamling offered gamely. Stiffly, he turned, scraping his foot as he limped along. He patted her on the back as he passed her. “Good girl.” 

“Ath-hole.” she muttered between retches.

“Yes, I have one.” 

“It’s your fault.”

_***Wait... I thought there were two of us that night...***_

He returned a few minutes later, holding a water dipper, and began to stroke her hair back. “Done?”

“I think so.” Aefre was gulping huge breaths of air.

“Come on.” He took her by the elbow. “Let’s get you outside where the air is not so enclosed.” He pulled her through the stable door. “Drink.” He handed her the water dipper from the well. 

Gratefully, Aefre took it, rinsing out her mouth. “The healer said I’ve been ignoring symptoms for weeks, and this shouldn’t last much longer.”

_***Béma! I hope not! This is damned bothersome!***_

Aefre finished rinsing her mouth, finally swallowing a few sips and handing the dipper back to him. “Thank you.” She was wan, pale, looked exhausted and it worried Gamling to no end. She turned back towards the barn. “I need to put Adenydd-”

“No.” Gamling took her again by the elbow. “Haleth will be here shortly with Dréogan, and I’ll have him do it.”

_***And I have to wash my foot anyway...***_

“You go up to our rooms,” He didn’t pay attention to Aefre’s surprised look, “and I’ll have the kitchen send up a light repast.”

“Gamling! I’m not hungry. I’m afraid to-”

“You need,” he tightened his grip slightly for emphasis, “to eat. Something. Anything. I’ll ask the healer to suggest something.” He smirked, Aefre seeing the ghost of the small child his mother spoke fondly of. “You can have my broth! I don’t need it anymore.” He tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “Go on. I’ll be up shortly.” Gamling watched as she started towards the Hall, taking care not to go through the kitchens, waiting for her to go around the front and out of sight, before he sank in utter exhaustion onto the stool outside the barn door. 

_***babybabybabyohmyBéma!babybrowneyesbabytemperohmybaby...***_

Haleth finally arrived with Dréogan, his hoof reshod. He had the boy move Adenydd to her stall and gave specific instructions on graining both stallion and mare. As he made his way to the kitchens, he stopped in the outer lying herb garden. It was his lucky day - the healer was tending the plants and after a few subtly put questions, he managed to wrest from her a bland menu for Aefre during her pregnancy. He then made his way into the kitchens, to ensure the promised pork loin was sent to his chambers as well as the unseasoned meal for Aefre. If his journey from Aefre’s room to his the night before had been arduous, this one wasn’t much better. His side ached, burned even; and breathing was difficult with the tight binding. By the time he reached his... their... rooms, he was spent. As he had the night before, he slid into the room, the afternoon light streaming through the window. Aefre was lying on the bed, wearing-

_***my tunic? Béma! Why is she wearing my clothes?***_

\- a faded shirt obviously too large, too big, draping her frame. “Aefre?”

“Hmm hmm? I’m... awake...”

_***Just barely***_

He tossed a green throw from the foot of the bed, realizing as it fluttered over her, it was his cloak. A thought occurred to him...“Aefre?”

“Hmmm?”

“Does anyone know besides the Healer and us?”

Her eyes opened to slits. “Your mother. I asked her not to ... tell...”

_***Might as well have clanged the bells and proclaimed it from the roof...***_

The sun was going down, the room darkening, Gamling not caring one whit as he sat in the ghostly pale light of the rising moon.

_***ababybabybabybaby Horse Lordlet or Shield Toddler crawling around my feet, calling my name, my hair, her hair, her eyes.... brownbrowneyes, temper? Hers? Mine? OhBémaboth, demanding Mearas rides... and pulling on Dréogan’s mane and tail...***_

So engrossed in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the door open. Two napkin covered trenchers were quietly slid on the table, the succulent smell of roast pork rising in the air.

“Want to talk?”

“No, Mother.”

She settled down in the chair anyway, across from him. “Need to talk?”

“Yes.” Gamling edged the table closer and pulled the napkin from the trenchers. “Vegetables? Fruit?”

“For Aefre, if she wakes.” Aelwydd shrugged. “I’d let her sleep.”

Gamling turned the tray, the pork loin now in front of him. Withdrawing his eating dagger from its sheath at his belt, he proceeded-

_***foodfoodfoodooooooooood realfood not piddling broth...***_

\- to cut into the meat. “She works too hard.” The equivalent of three bites went into his mouth.

His mother watched him with concern. “You haven’t changed a bit.” she mumbled. “You still shovel your food as if you are on campaign.”

Gamling appeared to pay her no heed, simply continued to inhale the food, keeping a watchful eye on Aefre, much as she had watched him in the days before. He finally swallowed the last piece. “You are making me a Rider’s Wedding Cloak.”

“Aye.”

He laid his knife down with an angry clatter. “You presume much.”

Aelwydd’s eyes glittered in the moonlight. “I presume the obvious. Do you question your feelings?”

Gamling’s teeth were clenched.

_***I showed my arse to half the staff of Edoras the other night looking for her. Question my feelings...***_

“No.”

“You can’t honestly think she questions hers! I’ve watched her worry for you this past week; to the point where she made herself ill-”

“She’s pregnant!” Gamling’s jaw was still clenched.

“I know she’s pregnant and I understand her desire not to say anything yet. But Béma, Gamling! She’s going to start showing soon! Bah!” Gamling heard her rise and bustle around the moonlit room. “I’m old and refuse to whisper in the dark!” There was the sound of stone on stone, a small oil lamp with feeble light, lit. “There! That’s much bett-... Gamling?” His mother turned to see her son slouched in the chair, his forehead propped in his hand, eyes closed in thought. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“Aye.” He took a cleansing breath before opening his eyes and looking up at his mother. “She said it’s too fast, too soon.”

“Gamling, the two of you aren’t getting any younger.”

He hrmmphed. “She said that as well.”

“Did she now?” Aelwydd settled back down in the chair. “I like your lady more and more each passing moment.”

_**You should. You’re just alike. Béma! I’ve fallen in love with my mother... EEEEEEEEEWWWWW!***_

“At this moment, Aefre is scared. She’s tired, worn-out, over-worked. And over-whelmed.” It was quiet for a moment. “So am I.” Gamling pursed his lips, an old habit reminiscent of his father. “Don’t mention her pregnancy. We both need to come to terms with it. As for marriage...” Again he hesitated, picking, choosing words, “say nothing. We’ll deal with that in due time.”

His mother stood up, stacking the trenchers. “She should return to her own room, Gamling. People talk. It was one thing when you were injured, but you are healing, moving up and about.”

His forehead had returned to the crook of his fingers.

_***That’s her decision. I won’t ask her to leave. I don’t want her to leave.***_

“Let them.”

“If you gave a warg’s arse what people thought, you would still be in her rooms, buck naked, waiting for clothes.” She chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “Ah, me. There’s an old saying-”

_***Lovely. She’s full of old sayings. Probably because she invented each and every one...***_

“-First babies come anytime. All others take nine months.” She smoothed the hair from his head. “I recall very clearly the wintry morning the midwife laid you in my arms, forty-seven summers ago. No matter how big you get-”

_***BLRG! Here it comes...***_

“- I’ll always see that-”

_***scowled up face***_

“-scowled up face. Get some rest, son. You’re going to need it.”

He didn’t hear the door open and shut, just sat and stared in the darkness, mind reeling, churning, 

_***BémaBémababybabybabybabybabybabybabybabyba-***_

-finally giving up. He stripped down to nothing but his bound and bandaged chest, crawling under the cloak with Aefre. He curled into her, pulling her back, her thighs and that delectable curve of flesh into the warmth of him...

... his hand snaking protectively over her stomach.

***  
tbc  
***


	28. 27 Give to me your leather, take from me, my lace

**_Rider of the Mark 27_**

**_Give to me your Leather; take from me, my Lace_**

***

“Lift your arm.”

“Ouch!” 

“Oh, stop fussing! I’ve not done anything yet!”

“I’m practicing.”

Aefre looked at the semi-nude Horse Lord sitting on the stool. “You are worse than a child,” she scowled, before returning her attention to the sewn flesh in front of her. “I think these are ready to take out.”

Gamling stretched his arm over his head, grimacing at the pull of freshly knitted skin. “Do I get to get drunk again?” Aefre just shook her head and picked up the small, slender knife.

They had not discussed her pregnancy, not mentioned the baby. Their days were falling into a strange routine - always starting with her kneeling over the chamber pot retching and him holding her hair away from her face. Her daily routine continued, overseeing the chambermaids, the kitchens. She lunged and exercised Adenydd and occasionally sparred with an over-excited teen, when the weather permitted. The blander the food, the better for her. She stayed out of the kitchens, preferring to meet with the cook later in the day, tending to the laundry or the cleaning.

Gamling struggled to establish a routine. With stitches still holding his side together, he felt as useless as... well, tits on a bull. Haleth dogged his heels, ready to do anything, everything. Gamling finally lost his temper, barking at his friend’s son after Haleth had attempted to take Dréogan’s lunge lead from him when he felt the Rider had over-taxed himself. Unbeknownst to Gamling, Aefre spent an hour soothing the child’s hurt feelings. Aefre could see what was eating at him, chaffing with nothing to do, itching to get in the saddle. To make matters worse, it had rained for five days, everyone was cooped up, edgy, and nerves were strained almost to the breaking point. 

The sarcasm - level had risen to a dangerous point between all, including the two most important women in the Rider’s life. It had come to a head that morning, when Gamling’s mother had screeched at Aefre from across the hall to ‘do something’ to occupy her son. Her over-grown youngling, she claimed, had been following her, shadowing her all morning, interfering, questioning everything. Aefre and Aelwydd had actually gotten into a heated argument, Aefre defending him, his mother...

_***Béma! Why is she still here? OOOOH I forgot... she’s making my wedding cloak...***_

-voices raised, listing every fault, every-

“- just like his father!”

Gamling looked up, torn away from his dejected reverie. “Thank you.”

_***I think...***_

His mother snarled. “Aefre! He is in my way! It’s like having him under foot as a child again! Can’t you occupy him?”

_***Occupy? Occupy? Hmmm. I have been having uncontrollable... twitchings as of late...***_

 

“What? And have him hanging about my skirts?" 

_***how about under your skirts? That would be nice. Firm legs wrapped aroundmyneck...***_

"Aefre? About my battle lance-" 

Aefre had her back to him and apparently had not heard him. "What do you expect from me?" 

"Gamling!" his mother spat over her shoulder "Would you like to... dust the furniture?" 

_***dust the furniture? That’s a ridiculous question...***_

"No. About my-" 

"Polish the silver, rub the brass?" 

_*** I need some rubbing... wouldn’t take much.... ooooh rubbed...***_

"Not particularly. About my ba-" 

"Mop the floor? Take the dirty linens to the laundress?" 

"I don't know where she is. Can we disc-" 

"See?" Aelwydd gestured at her son. "He's in my way!" 

"And how is that my fault?" Aefre asked quietly. "I imagine it must be difficult. He's come home from war-" 

"Excuse me-" 

"-has been injured horribly. His routine has been thoroughly upset-" 

"Can I interrupt?" 

"No! I imagine he's bored to tears and I for one can't blame him! And rather than... Gamling?" Aefre called out after the Horse Lord who had risen from the bench and was slowly making his way to the front entrance. "Where are you going?" 

"I am going to sit in the muck pile. I shouldn't be in anyone's way. And I can talk to the horseflies who will listen to me when I speak." 

Aefre growled at Aelwydd who only sniffed disdainfully. She rushed towards the doorway, grabbing the Horse Lord by the hand, in an attempt to impede his departure. "Gamling-"

"My name." Gamling looked around in mock surprise. "I believe I heard my name." He looked at Aefre, blinking. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" 

Aefre didn't know if she should laugh or smack him. She decided on neither. "I have an idea." 

_***so do I... nakednakednakednaked***_

"It had better not include pity." 

Aefre's eyebrows rose in consternation. "I would never pity you," she hissed. “Especially in the mornings when I’m on my knees!" Gamling was completely non-plussed. Aefre's shoulders dropped and she focused on the ornate equine carving on the post over his left shoulder. "I have an idea." She turned, pulling him with her. "What say we go to your chambers-" 

_***YESYESYES! NAKEDNAKEDNAKEDINMY BEDFINALLY FINALLY FINALLY...***_

"-and I check your stitches. They should be ready to take out and if that's the case, we can have a nice bath drawn for you. A real one." 

_***She’s stooping low. I don’t need a bath! I need... sniffsniff...maybe a bath wouldn’t hurt...hmmmm...I can play this game...***_

"I can use my soap. Not your prissy smelling stuff?" 

Aefre blinked. "Starting tomorrow," she continued with a sigh, "you can take over and organize the rotations and training schedules. The Riders need their routines re-established, as do you. I'm sure Dréogan would like to take a nice ride rather than being lunged. Hmmm?" 

_***I'm being appeased. I know I’m being appeased. I might be a simple Horse Lord, but I’m not stupid. I'll take it!***_

"An honest - to - Béma ride?" 

They passed Willan in the hallway. "Willan, I'm going to remove Gamling's sutures. I'm going to need willow bark boiled in water and my small knives and sewing scissors. We also need hot water for a bath." She leaned in and loudly whispered. "He reeks and I can’t stand it anymore." She turned and continued down the hallway, turning the corner. 

Willan looked at Gamling appraisingly. _*Well?*_

Gamling answered with the age - old fist pump. 

_***YES!***_

"Gamling!" 

"I’m behind you!" He scurried down the hall and turned the corner. "See? I’m right here!" 

"You are such a man!" 

Willan shook his head, amused by the two. With a grin, he ambled towards the kitchens. 

*** 

Gamling found himself sitting on the stool, half naked, arms over his head, with the beginnings of a sizable hard on, while Aefre carefully cut the dried stitches from his wound. "This mended quite nicely." 

"Hmm, hmm." 

Willan and two others were already bringing pails of hot water and were now entering with several more. "I'm glad Eadignes was able to sew you." 

_***uh oh***_

"Hmm Hm." 

"I... I don’t know what I would have done had she not come up." She tugged the last thread and brushed the skin with the willow bark water again. "There you go! All done! She was a great help." 

"Hmm, hmm." 

"She stayed with me all night, watching you." 

Gamling rose from the stool, stretching, testing the pull of his skin. 

"She did a-" 

"Aefre? Where is this going?" Aefre looked up at him, the circles under his eyes, the additional lines on his face. Although not as bad as the first nights he had returned, he still had nightmares, calling out, thrashing. At some time, he was going to have to talk; up to this point, he had been remarkably close lipped. 

"I don't wish to talk about Eadignes. If it is your desire to deride-" 

"NO!" Aefre was aghast. "No! Absolutely not! She was a great help to me! I... I..." she hooked her fingers and fidgeted, "I... like her. She has a good heart." The familiar calloused fingers curled under Aefre's chin, lifted it. 

"You have ever been wise, My Lady." He studied her face, scrutinizing it as intensely as he had the morning he had left the tent at the Dwimberg, strong fingers stoking her jaw line. 

"Should I inhale?" Aefre asked when he lowered his head. 

"Might be wise." 

The initial touch was tentative, curious, contours and crevices not forgotten, but needing re-exploring. Nights of restlessness followed by nights wrapped in a cloak and summer linens guided to need and rising heat. Somewhere, someone growled, the other whimpered, the kiss deepening. Aefre was mindful of tender flesh, her hand dipping to his lower hip as she pulled him closer, answering an ancient- 

"Ahem." Excuse me?" 

The two broke away, Aefre's head thumping against Gamling's chest, the Horse Lord groaning in frustration. He glared over Aefre's shoulder. "What?" 

Willan stood, inspecting the ceiling for cracks and miscellaneous objects. One of the younger men helping was red as a beet, staring at the rug beneath his feet, tracing the pattern with his toe; the other more courageous one, twisting his tunic into a knot. "The bath is full... uhm... just thought you would like to know..."

"Thank you." Gamling said curtly between clenched teeth. He waited as the trio filed out, leather boots scuffing softly over rug and stone. When the door shut behind Willan, he began to tuck and pull at the ties of Aefre's overdress. "Where are your hair and bathing soaps?" 

She traced the long scar, still angry, still slightly red and puckered. "They are in the antechambers. I’ve stayed here for so... why? What are you doing?" 

Gamling tugged her overdress over her hips and watched it fall in a heap in the floor. He smirked and moved to the door to bolt it. "Why, I'm going to wash your hair." 

*** 

“Gamling! You need to bathe! This is ridiculous!" 

"I know I reek.” Despite the joking tone Aefre had taken with Willan in the hall earlier, she was right. He shuddered at his own staleness. "I'll get in... eventually. Lean forward." A pail of warm water coursed through her hair, over her shoulders, streamlets of warmth cascading over tired muscles. 

Silence. 

"Aefre?" 

“Hmmm?" 

A tap on her shoulder. "Which bar is for your hair? You have so many..." 

Aefre turned, parting her dripping locks from her face with her hands. "Uhm..." she pointed, "The pink one." 

_***pink... pink... Ahhh. THAT ONE! Roses!***_

He took the wedge of soap and leaned towards to reach her. 

_***OUCH! DAMMIT! That hurts! Dammitdammit!!!!***_

Aefre waited patiently for his hands to immerse themselves into her hair. 

Nothing. 

"Just Gamling?" 

There was the sound of clothing hitting the floor. "Move forward." He climbed in behind her, feet nudging her on her knees towards the front of the tub. As he settled down, the water rose several inches in the tub. Large hands settled on her hips, moving her back, straddling his legs, the curve of her derriere resting onto his... 

"Hmmm. Did you grow a third leg or are you just glad to see me?" Aefre wiggled backwards provocatively. 

"If you wish," Gamling growled in her ear, "to have your hair washed this afternoon, you will stop that." 

Aefre wiggled again. "Or else what?" 

There was a short pause, before the bar of floral scented soap became enmeshed in her hair. "Or else, I will bend you over the side of the tub and take you as the steed I am!" Gamling stated matter - of - factly. 

"You're a jackass." Aefre mumbled good-naturedly, leaning into, moving with the kneading fingers at her scalp. 

"What did you say?" Gamling was intent on the mass in front of him. 

_***longlonglong silk in my fingers beautiful hair Aefre...***_

"I said... that feels good." Her body was becoming languid, boneless. For several minutes, she welcomed the massage, the attention to her, her hair. Twice he lathered, twice warm water drenched her hair. At some point, he switched to the green bar- 

_***APPLES! applesapplesapples***_

...lavishing equal attention to her arms, her shoulders. He gently stroked her waist, fingers lovingly caressed her stomach... 

_***Babybabybabybrowneyesbabybaby***_

...before skirting upwards, tracing around the curve of flesh. “I'm afraid to touch you," he admitted quietly. 

"Gently," she arched into him. "Very gently." 

The Horse Lord hadn't been this cautious, this careful, since he had lain with his first woman so many years before. The female body was an amazing thing - bits and bobs that acted and reacted. He cupped both breasts, as if to weigh them, thumbs gently brushing the peaks. "Tilt your head." His lips found the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder. He felt her shudder, moan lightly, as his tongue swirled gently from the crook of her neck to the indentation behind her ear. She reached behind her, cradling him into her reversed embrace. As she lifted up, he moved beneath her hips, shifting, moving, probing...

_***hooooome...***_

... thrusting upwards into and onto.

For an eternity, a moment, she moved over and in, the water lapping between them, against the side of the metal tub... his teeth continuing to worry, tease the lobe of her ear. He stroked the silky coating of the soap on her body. At some point, his hands moved down, to fondle the flesh, that sweet spot where her body joined his, causing her to gasp and arch further into him. He found the small knot that had driven her insane all those weeks... months? ... ago... making her jerk, hips moving in a circular...

_***Damn woman you have some moves...***_

Somewhere in the haze of air, Gamling heard her whisper-

“Béma, this feels so good...”

“Hmmm hmmm.”

“...but my knees are killing me.”

His head thudded against her shoulder, as she turned him loose. Gamling felt her lips graze his ear, before she lifted herself up and off.

“The tub is a bit hard,” he admitted reluctantly. “I suppose you wish to continue this in the bed?”

“Aye.” She stood up, water cascading down her body, her back, her legs, the angle perfect to view her delightful...

_*** I see Gondor, I see-***_

**_!SPLASH!_ **

He shook his head, water flying from where she had splashed him in the face. By the time he got the water from his eyes, she was outside of the tub, grinning impishly at him, wrapping herself in a fluffy towel. “I know what you were doing.” She winked and turned away. “Nasty man.”

Gamling stood up, water flung haphazardly, eyes scanning her, the floor, the peg...

“You’ve got the only towel.”

It hit him in the face as she left the antechamber. “Are you coming?”

_***Coming? Coming? Oooooh....***_

“I have an itch that needs... tending to.”

Gamling was out of the tub, grabbing the towel from his face, mumbling, “I’ll scratch your itch and a few other things...”

“What was that?” Her voice echoed from the main chamber.

“I said...” he looked back at the warm water. “Wait.” Grabbing the soap, he dunked his head under, lathered his hair, beard and face...

_***Great! Now I smell like apples... beats roses...***_

...and dunked himself again. The wet cloth lying forlornly on the side of the tub did a fast swish under arms and under... other things....

_***never know where that mouth of hers will end up...***_

... before wrapping the towel around him and strutting from the antechamber.

Aefre was standing next to a chair, with what appeared to be a bottle of oil, one leg propped on the chair, and massaging it into the calves of her leg. She saw him peruse her leisurely. “My skin gets dry.” She removed her leg from the chair seat and handed him the bottle. “Would you like to do the rest?”

The scent of apples was overwhelming as he took the bottle from her. If his interest had wilted any in the previous minutes, it reasserted itself immediately. 

“Where would you have me start?”

The rain was hammering on the roof tiles of Meduseld and it echoed serenely in the room. Aefre opened the window to the White Mountains, shrouded in mist, fresh rain air filling the room. She turned and looked at the Horse Lord wearing nothing but a towel.

“I said it once, I’ll say it again. You have a nicely turned ankle for a man. Where do you want to start?”

Gamling forced his eyes up from her hips. “Hmm? Oh! I...” he gestured weakly... “your... back?”

“That would be a nice place to start.” It was a whisper, a hint of sound as she climbed - 

_***dammitdammitdammit you’re doing thatonpurposejusttake you now whereyoukneel...***_

... on the bed. A wide smile graced her face. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.” She stretched out on her stomach, her head cradled on her arms. “Don’t think about servicing me like a stallion. I am not a mare!”

Gamling looked over his shoulder quickly, making sure his door was properly latched. “Wouldn’t consider it.”

_***dammit! She’s reading my mind...***_

He climbed on the bed next to her, really at odds over exactly what to do. He had had massages before; usually Eadignes or another one of the... he grimaced, feeling guilt at thinking that with her.

“Just Gamling?”

“Yes?”

“Is something amiss?”

“No... yes... I’ve not...”

“Ah.” Damn her, she was smiling smugly and turned her head away. “Have you ever had a massage before?”

_***eeeeerrrrrrrr....***_

“Yes.”

“Have you ever rubbed liniment into Dréogan’s muscles when he’s strained them?”

A sigh of relief; something else to think about. “Yes.”

“It’s the same concept.” She reached back and slung the wet mass of hair from her back. “Just don’t press as hard. Remember, a little goes a long way.” Aefre settled her head on her arms and closed her eyes. “And take the towel off. You’ll be more comfortable.”

His smile mirrored her own.

_***Saucysassysaucysaucy...***_

The towel went flying, landing somewhere in a corner, as Gamling pulled up and over her, trying hard not to think of mounting a horse. He settled himself, gently resting on her thighs, the length of him lying boldly against the cleft of her cheeks. Slowly, he trickled a small amount of oil down the length of her spine, watching it bead and puddle, before stoppering the bottle with the cork and looking around for a safe place to set it, placed it in the curve of her hand. “Hold this.”

Shyly, gently at first, becoming bolder as he went, he circled the oil up her spine and then outward, working the scent into skin that moved under his touch. It shocked him how tense she was, her muscles as tight as anything he had encountered. Dawning registered on his thoughts - what she had to have gone through during his absence, the running of Edoras left on her shoulders, not only the day to day, but the _’what if’_ \- what if Gondor fell, what if no Riders returned, what if Edoras was attacked - in as well. Him, coming home injured...

The baby...

_***Béma!***_

Their bodies were moving now in tandem, going in circles, moving in a rhythmic dance. Gamling’s oil-drenched fingertips were exploring away from her back and spine, down around her thickened waist and her breasts. Waiting, foreplay was now no longer an option, as need had reasserted itself most painfully. He lifted up.

“Turn over.”

Still holding the flask, Aefre turned to face him. For several seconds they struggled, repositioning, both laughing nervously before he finally settled between her knees. She pressed her thumb against the stopper and laid the vial above her head. He realized she had a fevered look, as Aefre reached up and tucked wet strands of hair behind his ear. “Béma, I need... I’ve missed you.” Her knees came up around his hips. “Don’t wait. I can’t wait. ”

He didn’t.

_***hoooooome...***_

Gamling fell into a blanket of Aefre - wrapped in her body, her arms, her legs. For a time, he was not aware of any sound, any words spoken, simply warmth and a sense of her fitting perfectly. It was a cocoon, wrapped in cloak of security; this was not an act of comfort, an act of release. It was deeper than a mating ritual, a mutual need. Even more so, it was place he did not want to leave, one he wanted to linger in, revel in its peace. Scenes of a shaded garden, a barn filled with freshly hewn hay, flitted aimlessly, barely registering. His mouth found the lobe of her ear, the tender spot behind it and he worried it, _*worried it*_ until she curled into him, curving, tilting up, the angle... oh the angle. Gamling leaned up and grabbed a pillow, pushing it beneath her, tilting her back to that position. As he reared back, Aefre’s hand reached down, finding herself, finding where they joined and finding their rhythm, her rhythm, clearly at a point of no longer waiting for him. He waited, watched in rapt fascination as she brought herself to the pinnacle, clenching around him. At her first spasm, he finally lost control, allowed himself to lose constraint, growling in her ear, as all that existed, ceased. 

Much as he watched her, she watched him, cradling the damp head to her shoulder, the crook of her neck, her knees tightening around his hips. Aefre stroked the hair from his face as he finally collapsed, breathing ragged and labored. She could feel the thud of his heart as it slowed to a more normal pace...

_... or was it hers?..._

Gamling started to push up and over to her side.

“Don’t. Stay.” Her mouth found his and for a moment, her legs clamped around him, holding him still.

“Aefre... the...

_***Gaaaaaaaah... come back here with that witchy mouth...***_

“... baby...”

“The baby is fine.” She was smiling against him, his mouth and he decided that maybe she was correct. “You feel wonderful.”

For a minute, the world was where it should be.

Eventually, Gamling rolled from her, his body slipping from hers. Aefre curled up against him, snuggling and not making silly cooing noises. Using a calloused fingertip, he traced the planes of her side, her arm, upwards to the line of her jaw, her lip. As she had once before, she kissed the palm of his hand, cradling her face into it.

“Good night, Just Gamling.”

Contentment washed over him, the thought...

_***Forever. I want this forever...***_

“Aefre-”

She looked up, the question in her eyes.

“I... I... I’ve decided on a stud fee...”

***  
Tbc  
***


	29. 28 - Of an Old Love, Well Remembered

_**Rider of the Mark 28**_

_**Of an old love, well remembered.**_

***

Aefre did not speak to Gamling for two days. 

He awoke late the next morning, well-refreshed. He stretched and reached for the familiar, soft body next to him. 

She wasn't there. 

_***There is much to be done; Aefre is an early riser...***_

He went to the antechamber, going through his morning ablutions, vaguely aware of an emptiness in the small room. He scrutinized the tub - water still in it, chilled with the oils floating in the top... the chamber pot... 

_***Something's missing...***_

As his eyes raked the shelf, it dawned on him. 

_***Her things-***_

...were missing; her soaps, her... 

_***odd...***_

...things. He pulled a clean tunic and leggings from the hook and perused the room as he dressed. 

_***Nothing. No sign of her at all.***_

Strange. 

All that lingered was her scent in the antechamber, a waft of apples. 

Gamling made his way to the Golden Hall, not noticing the curious side glances cast his way. He grabbed several small loaves of bread and a small wedge of cheese, sending Haleth into the cellars for milk. As he went through the kitchens, the cook smacked him twice for sampling the strawberry tarts for the evening. The woman blushed furiously when he grabbed her and kissed her playfully. 

"Béma! I missed your cooking! You could teach the cooks in Gondor a thing or two," a rare smile creased his features. "Where's Aefre?" 

The cook averted her gaze. "Why, I don't know, M’lord." She turned and became engrossed in her pastry dough, hammering it with unusual vengeance. "Alardis? Do you know where Lady Aefre is?" 

A young girl, peeling potatoes looked up from the pile. "Well, I think she went to oversee the laundry." 

"No," a young woman with a baby tied to her chest looked up from the flour she was sifting. "I heard she was in the fields overseeing the amount of moisture in the crop soil." 

"The rain?" the cook bellowed. "It's rained for days! Of COURSE they are wet!" 

The woman ducked her head, cradling the now fussing child to her. "I'm only telling you what I heard." 

Gamling palmed an apple, a carrot, and two more strawberry tarts before sliding towards the door, "Never mind, I"ll find her." He went past the herb garden, looking, down the yards, past the barracks. The contented feeling he had awakened with was fast dissipating into a quickly escalating irritability.

Several Riders were lazing about outside, playing cards, throwing stones. 

"Ho! Gamling!" Abéodan looked up and smiled. "Good to see you up and about! Come join us!" 

The warrior settled within, already rising fury quickly intensifying at the shiftless attitude and stances of the Riders. He looked at them with disdain. 

"Get you lazy carcasses off the bench! " he growled. "Are we resting on our laurels? Every one of you, to the barn in five minutes!" 

Cards and stones were gathered, grumbling heard as Gamling made his way to the barn. “So much for battle wounds mellowing him,” one Rider fumed.

He gave his and Aefre's mounts their treats, checking Adenydd closely. 

_***not showing yet.. too soon... babybabybabyba...***_

Within minutes, the barn was bustling with activity, the doors, windows, thrown open. Horses were checked carefully; Cynn was called to check hooves and other minor maladies. Even though he knew each Rider inspected their animals thoroughly upon arrival home, Gamling was angered at the lack of exercise the equines had been given in the previous days. Growling in frustration, he had several put to the turnstile, to exercise stiffening muscles. Feed and tack were inventoried, exercise and guard rotations set. Haleth was running back and forth, running errands, moving horses, eyes wide at the suddenly glowering man who had become larger than life. 

"Béma, Modig! Your stallion has a stone bruise! Didn’t you notice the shift in his gait? He's not my horse and I could see it! Are you sure you're a Rider?" Men scrambled, rousted from a too-long reverie, Gamling standing in the middle of the thoroughfare, scowling, furious at the lack of initiative. "Have there been any reports form the Eastenmet? The West? The Wold? Does this not seem odd to you? There is a rain leak in the northeast corner of the eastern stall. The ground is soaked! Why is there a horse in it? Was I so close to death's door, you waited to see if I lived or died and you lost sight of the Riddermark?" Both fists were firmly planted on his hips, hair flying wildly, as he pointed an accusatory finger here and there, yelling at this... that... he was exhausted by sundown, before sundown, truth be told, but he wouldn't admit it to anyone. 

Dréogan hung his head forlornly over the stall door, gazing at the ornate saddle hanging on its assigned peg. Gamling stroked the soft nose. "Sorry, big lad. Maybe tomorrow." The large warhorse nudged his Rider's hand in resignation. Slowly, Gamling made his way to the Hall, looking still for Aefre and settling at the table with his men. He was sullen, miserable company, and the Riders left him to his grousing solitude. Exhaustion finally set in, and signaling for Willan to take a pitcher of water to his rooms, he made his way, much to the relief of the Horse Lords dining with him. 

It was as he was stripping that he remembered Aefre's things had been removed from the room. It crossed his mind while he rinsed down and removed sweat and grime from the barn, to go to her rooms and look for her, bring her back or to sneak down, but fatigue overrode his ability to make his way into his own chambers and he fell into a worn out, fitful sleep, rife with nightmares, alone in the big bed. 

The next day, he made his way posthaste to her chambers, only to find it empty, neat and smelling of nothing. No apples, no floral. Gamling had been acutely aware of her scent, her smell that had surrounded him, cocooning him as he had recovered. For a moment, there was a whisper of her touch, in the breeze from the open window, the hint of her breath... 

_***Béma! Poetry! What next? Flowers? Standing outside her window, singing sappy love songs to her beauty?***_

He scowled at his inner voice. 

_***I DON’T SING!***_

He turned from the room, growling at the chambermaids, grabbing green apples and a chunk of cheese as he crossed through the kitchens. He again strode to the stables, giving curt orders, nodding and waving off Riders being sent across the Mark to check for problems, the pressing needs of Éomer's people. After giving Dréogan and Adenydd their treats, he grabbed his saddle. 

_***OUCH!***_

The muscle pulled, but he grimaced and slung the saddle pad and saddle over a now excited Dréogan. Adenydd was watching with interest, looking for Aefre. 

_***Where is your mistress? She won't be able to ride much longer, nor will you ...***_

He tightened the girth and slid the bit and bridle over his horse's muzzle and ears. 

"Sir?" Haleth's voice was tentative, Abéodan standing remorsefully behind him. "Are you sure you should be-" 

"No, I should not be." Gamling put a foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up. It hurt and for a moment, he didn't think he would make it into the saddle, but he managed with a quiet groan. "But I’m going to anyway! Move aside." 

Haleth and Abéodan stepped back, giving the Rider and his mount space. Dréogan chomped at the bit, anxious to be out, out in the air. People moved aside, as he made his way towards the gate. The two went through, Dréogan carefully treading the rocky path downhill. Upon reaching the bottom, he tugged excitedly at the reins. Gamling reached over and stroked the mane of his horse. 

"Easy boy. Don’t know what I can do." If horses could shrug, this one did. For precious hours, man and beast roamed - not far from the walls; Gamling knew his limitations. A few times, Dréogan nudged into a trot, but Gamling halted him soon enough, his side still mending, still aching. His thoughts ran rampant - would this wound ever heal properly? How badly would it pain him? How long?

_***A baby! Will I ever be able to hold him... her... teach him to ride... I'm goingtobeafather... a...***_

"Da! Da!" Scenes of Haleth as a toddler, golden curls and chubby fingers, pulling Hama's beard. And Hama caring less. He realized he had been envious of his friend and was too dense to acknowledge it. 

_"Da! Da!"_

For the millionth time, he questioned his ability, his patience. Gamling considered his role model - his own father; a stern, patient man, who rarely raised his voice. A careful, strict, but loving disciplinarian. Even his mother rarely crossed him; the domains carefully marked each respecting the other's opinion and place. He imagined it must be hard work, this marriage thing. 

_***She never answered. Never agreed.***_

She loved him - he knew that. Why had she not agreed to marry him? 

*** 

"You can't hide from him forever, Aefre." 

Aefre stood in the corner of the guest chamber, dusting, cleaning an already spotless table. "Certainly I can. Watch me." 

Aelwydd sighed and sat in the chair. "Talk to me." 

"No." 

"Great Steed of Béma!" the woman exclaimed. Eyes the same shade of blue as Gamling's glared up. "You are as stubborn as he is!" 

Aefre spun around. "Please do not insult me!" 

Aelwydd stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before finally smiling. "Ah, she does have her limits. Good. You are going to need to know them." She gestured to the chair across from where she sat. "Sit. You’ve dusted that table countless times. I believe no speck of dust will dare venture into that corner for quite sometime. Sit. You've earned a rest." 

Aefre glowered before slinging her dusting rag across the chair, and plopped sullenly into it. "There! I'm sitting!" 

Aelwydd sighed dramatically, causing Aefre to raise an eyebrow in disdain. "This is not good for my grandchild. You cannot hide forever and you can't be angry forever. Now, what in all of Arda did my hard-headed son do to tax you so greatly? Come now!" She tapped a lone fingernail on the wood of the chair arm. "You might as well get it out!" 

Aefre knew it was useless. She would have to tell sooner or later and face him sooner than later. "He... he... asked me to marry him." 

It was quiet for a moment, Gamling's mother blinking in surprise. "And you hid from him? Aefre! I'm shocked! I know you love him-" 

"Yes, I do! It was how he asked, although!" 

Again, there was a pained silence. "Well, don't leave me in suspense!" Gamling's mother finally spat. "What did he say to set you off?" 

Aefre swallowed painfully. "Stud fee." 

"Stud fee?" 

Aefre nodded. "Stud fee." 

"Stud... fee..." 

Aefre nodded again, ashamed. "Stud fee." 

"I'll kill him, " Aelwydd whispered. "To demand your hand just because he managed to plant a babe in your-" 

"NO!"Aefre jumped up with her hand waving, only to sit back down with an audible thud, dizzy. She dropped her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut. "No. Not me. My mare!"

Aefre could hear the scrape of the chair as Aelwydd moved it next to hers. "Your mare? Child, you are a most forgiving woman." Aefre's head jerked up, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o', to see the woman smiling evilly at her. “So, tell me how that happened?” 

It took a moment before Aefre could catch her breath. She told Gamling’s mother of sneaking off with the Eorlings, to Gondor, being caught, an angry, angry Gamling - 

"And well he should be! Good girl for trying!" Aelwydd patted her reassuringly on the knee. Aefre continued on, telling Gamling’s mother of arguing, of Dréogan servicing Adenydd. 

"They were our parting words... stud fees. When couriers came from Gondor, that was his message to me... We had stud fees to discuss.” She smiled a little. "Well, that, and I knew where he expected to find me upon his return." 

Aelwydd was still grinning fiendishly. "Naked in his bed?" She laughed heartily at Aefre's gasp. "His father would say that to me, every time he went on campaign or on a buying trip." She settled back in the chair, smiling serenely. "Gamling is just like his father; a good man, a solid man, good heart and intentions. Not a romantic bone in his body." She chuckled once, a dry sound. "So he has decided that the required stud fee for your dapple's colt is marriage to him. Could be worse." 

"Oh?"

"You could have been caught sleeping with him in his cloak." 

Aefre narrowed her eyes. "You haven't..." 

"I haven't what?” Aelwydd sat back with a smirk. "That boy of mine has never understood what a door latch was for! Yes, I have! And yes, I could!" She finally sighed in resignation. "I could shout it from the rafters and just get it over with for the two of you. I'd rather not do that. He isn't going to change, Aefre, but would you want him to? Go... yell at him." She gestured towards... somewhere. "Tell him off! And then get on with life! Béma, Aefre. I might be a bit prejudiced, but I don’t think you'll do better!" 

"You, madam,” Aefre smiled, “are very prejudiced. Right, but prejudiced." 

The old woman got up slowly and patted the younger woman on the knee. "Don't dawdle about it Aefre. He's out riding-" 

"He's WHAT?" 

Damn, the woman was hovering. "I said, he's out riding." 

"DAMN HIM! He's not ready, he's still-" 

"Apparently," and with this Aelwydd made her way slowly towards the door, "he thinks he is. He's been a veritable bear to his men and I suspect he'll be spent and hurting when he comes back in. He will be ripe for a nice argument when he gets back. Now go wait for him in the barn and make sure the quarrel is a marvelous, loud one." She stopped at the door. "Have I told you how his father and I met?" 

"No, ma'am." 

A sweet smile graced the woman’s features. "Our farms were at a distance and our fathers traded horses on occasion. " She braced herself against the back of her chair, fully engrossed in her tale. “The early spring of my 19th summer there was a horse fair and tourney; jousting and horse racing. It was a chance for the men to show off their skills and superiority of their horses, as well as widen the bloodlines of their herds. I was angry because my father wouldn't let me race the men and I knew my horse could beat them hands down!" She smiled self-consciously. "I got angry and rode off - alone. Just as the sun went down, I realized how far I was from the gathering and on my way back, my mare not only threw a shoe, but strained a muscle. So there I was, far from anyone, it was growing dark, and me, alone, walking a lame horse." 

"You must have been quite frightened." 

"Quite frightened?" Aelwydd asked incredulously. "Try scared out of my mind! I was surrounded by strange sounds. I just knew I was going to be attacked by mountain men or Orcs. I prayed to Béma for my Da to find me and blister my behind. Instead," she paused for breath, "a red-headed, grouchy Rider I had seen rudely staring at me for two days thundered up on the biggest brute of a mount I'd ever seen. He jumped off his horse, ignored me and ran his hands over my Bella's leg. He had brought liniment and some bandages; he took care of her and proceeded to gather twigs and small branches from a nearby copse of trees." 

"Didn't he even speak to you?" 

The older woman snorted inelegantly through her nose. "Only after he had hobbled his mount and mine together and started a fire. He informed me in no uncertain terms that I was too far from anywhere to get back safely with a gimpy mare. He told me I was a spoiled, selfish little girl and the poorest excuse for a Shield Maiden he had ever seen! He then tossed his bedroll by the fire, handed me a few dried beef strips and his water skin, and informed me I had a choice; I could freeze my arse in the cold that night or I could share his roll and cloak." 

Aefre was indignant. "Well, that's awful! He should have offered you the roll-" 

"Should have, but didn't! Said I wasn't worth his sleeping frozen on the rocks!" She shrugged good-naturedly. "I sat on the rock, teeth chattering, for I don't know how long. He finally dragged me bodily to his roll and placed me between the fire and himself. Said I was keeping him awake with my teeth clicking together like pebbles sliding down the hill! He said he wouldn’t touch me, but he certainly held me tight that night and he was much warmer than the rock, that's for sure!" She smiled, a sweet memory, lovingly remembered. "We were found the next morning at dawn, sound asleep, wrapped in his cloak, by my father and two of his Riders." 

Aefre's eyes widened, shocked at the revelation. "Ah...nooooo.... Surely, they didn't... it's just a wedding tradition!" 

"Aefre," Aelwydd began gently, "to be wrapped and to sleep with a Rider in his cloak, _is_ marriage by ancient Rohirrim practice. It is not just a wedding tradition. For all intents and purposes, when my father rode up and found us, we were married according to early tradition.”

“ I was given a reprieve of sorts." She was toying with the edging on the chair, lost in thought. "Gamhelm allowed me two months to come to terms with our indiscretion. He visited our farm often. My parents - who I thought would beat me - instead were ecstatic. Seems I had won the hand and possibly the heart of one of Thengel King's Advisors and the Marshal's eldest son, one who would some day command armies and stand in his father’s stead with Théoden. I had done quite well. It was the strangest wooing I've heard of, much less experienced. No poetic or tender speeches, no flowers, no... romance. Instead, I learned more about my horse than I thought possible. He taught me to be a better rider, a better Rohirrim. He taught me the ins and outs of a garrison, what a Rider in a garrison expected in the Hall. He was quiet, thorough. Marriage, as you know, is work, and we worked at it. There were times I hated that man and there were times he hated me. But we stuck it out." 

She raised a thin hand, skin stretched like fine parchment over spidery veins. "I realized one night, as I sat by the fire, nursing our second babe, that the man sitting across from me, staring so intently in the fire, was one Rohirrim I trusted. And with that trust, I loved him." She set her hand back down, obviously finished with her intense inspection of it. "I told him so. Right there, nursing Beornia, I told him, I loved him. He grunted." She smiled ruefully. "He grunted and said ‘Do you now?’ Ah, me. I wanted to hear it back. Instead, after putting Beornia in her cradle, he showed me, with the respect with which he treated me, the honeyed sweetness of his kiss, the gentle way he touched me when we made love." 

Aefre was staring at the woman in awe. "Did he ever tell you he loved you?" 

Aelwydd smacked the back of the chair lightly. "Once. He told me once. The day our first grandson was born. He was holding him - inspecting him, much as he had done our own and he told me that he fell in love with me the moment I rode into the tourney with my father. He fell in love with the way I sat my horse, the way I looked down my nose at everyone. He fell in love with my sassiness, my high-spiritedness. He told me he had watched me brew into a fine temper and knew I would take off in a huff. He purposely loosened my mare's shoe and waited until I had been gone a while. When the alarm was raised that I hadn't returned, he pointed everyone in different directions and then tracked me with my horse's loose shoe straightaway. In short," and with this, she gave Aefre a big smile, "that man set me up! He thought I needed the right man to gentle me and he was it." 

Aefre was still skeptical. "One should not marry another in order to change them." 

"You are correct. One should not." Aelwydd fixed Aefre with a lengthy stare. "He decided he loved my spunkiness, my spit. He loved me. He told me once." There was a short silence, the woman clearly not finished. "A month later, I was singing him to Béma's arms. Don't waste time, Aefre. Go yell at him, but stop being childish. Your name means 'forever.' Go be Gamling's forever." 

There was no sound but the door sliding shut, as Aefre sat, contemplating her words. 

***  
tbc  
***


	30. 29 - Romancing the Stone Maiden

****

Rider of the Mark 29 

****

Romancing the Stone Madam 

*** 

Gamling rode into Edoras, tired, hurting, but mentally refreshed and energized. 

_***I'm going to find her, not stop, not sleep, not eat, until I've found her and we've hammered this out and she agrees to marry me...***_

As he entered the stable yard, he saw Riders milling about, at loose ends. As they saw him, elbows and winking were flashed, men suddenly became busy, most of them dispersing, moving away from the barn. He dismounted with a grunt of pain and led Dréogan towards the door. "Haleth, have you seen Lady Aefre?" 

Haleth ducked his head deferentially. "She's in the stable, tending to Adenydd." 

"Good." 

_***Finally, we can deal with this...***_

He limped into the stable, Dréogan following him, seeing the familiar dark head in Adenydd's stall, the dapple in an empty stall across from the thoroughfare. He didn't realize that Haleth had signaled Abéodan and Willan and now the threesome were tiptoeing around the barn to an open stall window outside of Dréogan's and Adenydd's stalls. 

Aefre's head came up, hearing him enter, searching for him, giving him a long look, before her head went back down again. "It's too soon for you to be riding." 

Gamling grunted in response. Slowly, feeling the muscle pull at his side, he unbuckled and removed the saddle and the saddle pad from his stallion. Without his normal grace, he put the saddle on its peg. He found his curry brush and picked it up from his assigned shelf. 

Keeping a wary eye on that exasperating woman, lest she bolt when his back was turned, he measured honeyed oats and placed them in a feeding bag. Cursing the Orc that sliced him, he made his way back to his destrier and hooked the bag over Dréogan's muzzle and ears. While Dréogan ate his food, the Horse Lord began to brush and groom the horse, enjoying the routine, the feeling of familiarity of the chore. 

"I believe your mare must have the cleanest stall in Edoras." 

It was trite, forced. 

Abéodan grimaced and mouthed, " _Lame. So lame!"_

Aefre's voice echoed eerily over the stall. "I did Dréogan's as well." 

Gamling peered in and over his stallion's back, to see that she had indeed picked and cleaned his stall. "Thank you. You didn't have to." 

"It was no bother. I figured you would be tired anyway." 

This was true; he was exhausted and knew that just the simple chore of currying the big stallion was going to do him in. In silence they finished cleaning, combing, with a pat to respective rumps and both horses were sent to their stalls. Gamling finished tossing a small pallet of hay into Dréogan's manger, to turn and see Aefre pulling the muck bucket from Adenydd's stall. 

"Here," he stopped her and handed her an identical pallet, "I'll do that." 

"Gamling, I-" 

"I said," this time the tone was forceful, with an edge, "I will do that." 

Outside, Willan's eyes widened and Haleth and Abéodan ducked, Abéodan shaking his head in disbelief. "If it's his wish to woo her, he's going about it the wrong way!" the young Rider hissed. 

Although his attitude sent bristles up Aefre's back, she quietly set the muck bucket down and took a flake of hay to Adenydd's manger. There was quiet for a few moments, Aefre giving herself a few deep breaths to settle her very raw nerves, Gamling pulling the muck bucket towards the stable doors. He returned down the thoroughfare to see Aefre leaning against the stall wall watching him intently. 

He swallowed and gulped once, steeled his expression... 

_***Back straight, Remember... you are the Rider, you ARE the Horse Lord...***_

"You've hidden from me."

"Yes." 

_***Damn! Straight forward should have known...***_

"Why?" 

Aefre shrugged. "I was angry." She stared at him intently. "It was childish and a silly thing and I shouldn't have hid, but I'm STILL angry." 

"Angry? At what?" 

"At you!"   
Their voices were starting to rise and the trio outside the open window didn't have to strain to hear the argument clearly. Gamling well recognized the scowl on Aefre's face and his was now screwed into the scowl his mother had cherished since the day of his birth. 

"What did I do?" 

Aefre's foot was tapping angrily and her arms were crossed over her chest. "You asked me to marry you." 

Questioned looks and mouthing of 'What?' passed among the three outside. 

Gamling grabbed the pitchfork leaning against Adenydd's stall door and hung it on a nearby peg out of Aefre's reach. "How does my asking you to marry me cause me to be the object of your ire?" 

"I AM NOT A STUD FEE!" 

Both Willan and Haleth recoiled and Abéodan smote himself in the head. 

"You're not a ... what?" 

Aefre's hands were clenched in tight white balls. "Béma! So lost in passion you forgot? Stud fee. For Dréogan servicing Adenydd the morning you returned me to Dunharrow. The stud fee you decided on was my hand-" 

" I know what I said!" Gamling bellowed. "I didn't mean it as an insult!" 

Outside, the trio was laughing silently. Abéodan doubled over, painful hisses erupting from his mouth. Haleth was shaking his head and Willan was rubbing his eyes in shock with the heels of his hands. 

"I know you didn't, but it came out as one! Stud fee! Béma, how dense can you be?" 

Abéodan mouthed, _"Pretty dense,"_ to Willan's affirmative nods. 

" Obviously, I'm the densest Horse Lord in the Riddermark!" 

"Don't yell at me!" 

"I'm! NOT! Yelling!" 

Haleth had his hands in his hair, eyes squeezed shut. 

"Aefre," Gamling's voice had lowered to a moderate growl. "I simply asked you to marry me-" 

"No, you did not! You demanded my hand in lieu of stud fees! I! AM NOT! A Stud Fee!" 

Gamling's eyes were narrowed, his voice now a dull, furious hiss. "What do you wish, My Lady?" 

Aefre pushed against him, glaring defiantly, her finger poking a rhythmic tattoo on his chest. "What do I want? Do you want me to marry you?" 

"Even though I'm having second thoughts, it would still be nice." 

"Then perhaps," she thumped him once, "a sincere proposal?" 

Gamling flinched at the touch of her fist and backed up a step. "A sincere proposal? That's all you want is a sincere proposal?" Without thought, his hand moved to where she had thumped him, massaging the small hurt. 

Abéodan had his face in his hands, peering sheepishly through his fingers. 

"Truthfully," Aefre was now tapping her finger on her lip, "I'd like a romantic proposal, but I’ll take a sincere one. Yes," she nodded affirmatively, "a sincere proposal will be just fine." 

Willan threw his hands up in despair and proceeded to stalk off through the mud, only to have Haleth grab him by the tunic in an attempt to make him stay. 

"Romantic?" 

Abéodan KNEW this tone of voice, as low as it was. He too grabbed Willan by the tunic. "Stay! Please! She's in danger..." 

"Romantic? You don't think I can be... romantic?" 

"Gamling-" Aefre became cajoling, in a sense, contrite. She had a feeling that didn't quite set right... 

"You don't think I can be, do you?" 

Both of her hands were now on her hips as Aefre steeled her backbone. "A sincere proposal of marriage would - Gamling?" 

The Horse Lord turned on his heel and stormed towards the door. "Stay here!" he ordered over his shoulder. He disappeared into the bright sunlight. 

"Stay here?" Aefre crossed her arms. "This does NOT bode well, for you M'lord Marshal!" She stormed to the door, looking into the yard, through the brightness of the afternoon sun. "Damn you!" 

There was no sign of the Rider; Aefre bounced on the balls of her feet, peering into the yard, trying to see where he had disappeared off to. Willan, Abéodan, and Haleth were shushing each other and hiding around the corner of the barn. 

Within minutes, Gamling reappeared from around the fence, clutching a hastily-pulled fistful of elanor and rosemary- 

_***Oh Béma forgive him - he's been in the cook's herb garden!***_

He approached her in an angry huff and grabbed her by the arm. 

_***don't think I can be romantic, huh? I'll show you... should be easy; say something sweet! Disgusting but I'll stomach it for you...***_

He headed her back into the barn, making sure the door was shut behind him and not seeing the three Rohirrim running around the side of the barn again, sliding in the mud, trying to find a good listening spot. 

Gamling thrust the hastily gathered bouquet at Aefre. "Well," he shook them once for good measure. "Take them!" 

Aefre smirked and took the bundle from the offering hand. "Cook is going to be very angry-" 

With a sigh of resignation- 

_***Romanticromanticromantic I can do this...***_

\- Gamling sank painfully to one knee in the dust. "Aefre, would you-" 

"What are you doing?" she whispered. "Gamling, you don't have to-" 

"Would you PLEASE be quiet?" Gamling squeezed his eyes shut. 

_***Béma, if anyone walks in I'll never live this down...***_

"What's going on?" Abéodan whispered. "I can't hear!" 

"Lift me up..." Haleth proceed to scale the wall, trying to pull up to the high placed window. 

"Aefre," Gamling began again, eyes still squeezed shut. 

_***this is harder than leaving her at Dunharrow***_

"Would you please share my cloak,-" 

"Oh... Gamling..." 

"-share my trencher, my tankard, my bed, but mostly, " he opened his eyes to see.... 

...the roof? 

He seemed shocked when he realized she had sunk to her knees and was kneeling in front of him. Her fingers slid into his. 

"-Share my life?" 

"Yes." 

_***THERE! That was easy. Béma, I never want to do that again***_

"What are they saying?" Abéodan was pushing Haleth higher. 

"I think he proposed! I can't hear. Push me a little more!" 

Gamling was smiling, his head lowering towards hers. 

"I love you, you big oaf." 

He traced her nose with the tip of his. "Do you now?" He kissed her once, his lips tarrying over hers. "Was that romantic enough?" 

Aefre was caressing his jaw line with the tips of her fingers, lightly ruffling the hair in his beard. "It was perfect." She kissed him back, her taste lingering. "Do you think we can get up now? We're in the dirt and the air is a little-" 

"OOF!" 

There was the sound of a body hitting the dirt in the stall next to them, Growling, the Horse Lord jumped up stiffly and threw open the stall door. Haleth lay sprawled in an enclosed stall, the stallion in it staring balefully at the boy. The echo of running feet could clearly be heard from outside the stall. 

"Boy, you've fallen in shite." Haleth looked underneath himself in horror to see just that. "Who?" Gamling pointed at the window from where the youngling had fallen from. 

"Abéodan and Willan." 

"Well, " Aefre had joined Gamling, "Willan won't talk, however Abéodan..." 

"I'll deal with him," Gamling growled at Haleth who was pale and wide eyed, not knowing whether to be upset he had fallen in the horse's pile or knowing that he was the object of the wrath of the very large and angry Horse Lord staring down at him. 

"We didn't hear anything, honest." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Well," he stood up awkwardly, brushing himself clean and trying to steer clear of the stallion's rear end. "We heard Lady Aefre yell she wasn't a stud fee and we heard you yell something about being romantic-" 

"Oh, Béma..." Aefre gasped and turned away from the stall. 

"-but we didn't hear you propose or anything." 

"Or. Anything." 

Haleth had the good sense to look ashamed. "I'm sorry, Gamling." 

Gamling rolled his eyes and reached out, "I think," he grabbed Haleth roughly by the shoulder and yanked him towards the front of the stall, "that your Rider training begins now." 

"Yes, Gam- ... sir." 

"Your first task is to find Abéodan and tell him in no uncertain terms that if he does not want to spend the rest of his life mucking stalls, he'll not say a word." 

"Yes... sir..." 

By this time, the Horse Lord had pulled the youngster completely from the stall and was shutting the gate behind him, "What are you waiting for?" 

"Yes... sir...." 

Haleth took off in a rush, barreling through the barn's cracked doors. "Béma!" Gamling swore, shaking his head angrily. "So much for a quiet proposal." His fists were setting on his waist. "I don't suppose we can just let someone catch us wrapped in my cloak and do away with the ceremony?" 

"Your mother," Aefre had stepped up to him and threaded her arm beneath his around his waist, "claims she has caught us wrapped in your cloak." 

"Oh," Gamling sagged in relief. If that was the case, she could just announce it and they wouldn't have to go through all the aggravation. "Good." 

"I still want a ceremony." 

"Damn!" The Rider pulled her into his embrace. "Does this mean I have to wear new clothes?" 

"Yes." 

"And new boots?" 

"Yes" 

"And the flowers?" 

Sweet, sweet lips canvassed his mouth. "Most definitely the flowers! But only for the day. Just the once." 

He kissed her back "Just the once?" 

"Yes." 

"Promise?" 

Aefre pulled away with a grin and pulled him towards the stable door. "I don't intend on marrying you again. Now," she continued as they exited the barn, "do you want to announce this from the rafters or subtly?" 

_***Clang the bells, shout from the rooftops, I'm getting laid every night of the week!***_

"Subtly." 

"Then," she steered them from the barnyard and towards the front of the Great Hall, "we had best hurry. Haleth will yell across the Hall to Abéodan to not tell anyone we're getting married, and that will be the end of that." 

A question nagging its way through Gamling's thoughts... 

"How long?" 

"How long what?" 

As they began to climb the wide stair in front of the Golden Hall, Gamling realized how close he held the woman to his side. The guards were staring at them, curiously. By keeping her in his firm grip, his actions were speaking loud and clear. 

He tightened his grip. 

"How long before we have the ceremony?" 

"Oh," Aefre made a moue in thought. "A few weeks, I would suppose." 

"A few? Weeks?" 

_***Damn! When did I sound like a mouse?***_

They were nearing the top. "Yes, I need a new dress; you need new clothes." 

"Can't you just find something lying around? That dress you were wearing when I arrived back from Gondor would be just fine." 

"No!" Aefre stopped and stared at him horror. " That's a work dress and besides, I need a real wedding dress. And you need celebratory clothes, as well!" 

"Damn." 

Aefre was deep in thought, not taking notice of the Riders' knowing looks. Smiles disappeared quickly at the Marshal's glare. "I have to plan the celebration dinner with the cook..." 

 

"Celebration dinner? Are we inviting all of Rohan?" 

"Your mother is here, but we'll need to send for the rest of your family. I haven't met your sisters..." 

_***Béma, she'll love them, they never stop talking! It's why I left in the first place! Can I run now? I can be in Gondor in two days, I've not seen Mordor; the sea, the sea would be nice...***_

"-we have so much to plan...* 

_***We??? WE??? Mordor! Mordor looks gooooood...***_

They entered the Golden Hall, made their way to the dining hall, long tables set up with serving wenches flittering back and forth with heaping trays of roast mutton and rabbit. There was a slight lull in the conversation as the two entered together, heads close in conversation. 

The table of Riders breathed a sigh of relief when Gamling sat down next to Aefre, grateful he was seemingly relaxed and not growling at them. A large trencher was set in front of Gamling; meat, roasted potatoes steaming. Aefre's stomach lurched and she asked for some fruit and plain cooked vegetables. As they removed their eating knives from their belts, Alardis set a mug of mead in front of Gamling. She went to set a second in front of Aefre, when Gamling's hand shot up and gently grasped the girl by the wrist. 

"Wait." 

The entire room fell silent, all eyes... 

_***Subtle... this is as subtle as a cattle call..***_

"Aefre?" 

"Yes, Just Gamling?" 

Gamling was not a stupid man and he could feel every ear in the Hall listening to their small corner. "Will you share my tankard?" 

"Yes." 

Silence. 

Inhale. 

_***youcandothisyoucandothisbreeeeathe...breeeeathe...***_

"Always?" 

"Yes." 

The roar that went up was deafening. Every lusty, bawdy toast he had ever made to the impending doom of a Rider was heaped on his head ten fold. At one point, he whispered to his mother, he would purposely leave the door unlatched and open if she would kindly catch him and Aefre wrapped in his cloak. 

She smacked him angrily. "Gamling! How could you cheat your bride or Edoras of a celebration? They need something happy to look forward too!" 

_***Grrrrr...***_

The ale flowed, plans were being made - without his opinion being asked, thank you very much! 

_'Wedding celebrations are the making of women,'_ his da had told him once while digging out a hoof. _'Best just wear what they tell you to wear, and show up at the proper place and time._ ' 

Gamling's da had been a wise man. 

Abéodan had wished them luck and happiness, head bowed and blushing. Willan had grabbed Aefre in a bear hug and started to do the same to Gamling, remembering almost too late, Gamling's still-healing side. 

No one heard the young woman creep in the doors, bags in hand, eyes wide. She searched the room, the crowd, finally settling on the one she sought. She watched the scene, realizing after a few moments exactly what she was witnessing. She almost turned and left, but she looked at the bruises on her arms and steeled her backbone and strode purposely towards the couple. 

A few of the men saw her first, poking each other and whispering. When women saw her, they muttered angrily... 

_...how dare she..._

_...Who does she think she is?..._

If she heard them, she paid them no heed. She simply walked up and stopped in front of the Horse Lord and his Lady. 

Gamling saw her first. 

"Eadignes?" 

The young woman bit her lip and dropped her bags, her things, on the bench and locked her gaze on Aefre. She pulled nervously on her sleeves, trying to hide what was there. 

"Lady Aefre? You said you'd help. You said you would. You promised. I quit. I quit, I did. Now what do I do?" 

***   
Tbc   
***


	31. 30 - Grunt the Mountain Man

**_Rider of the Mark 30_**

**_Grunt, the Mountain Man_**

***

“Show me.” As soon as she quickly escorted Eadignes from the dining hall into the guest room, Aefre kicked the door closed behind her and motioned to the girl’s arms. “I saw them, as did Gamling. Show me.”

“Really, ma’am,” Eadignes backed up, blushing. “They aren’t that bad. Truly.”

The door swung open, Aelwydd poking in her head, followed by Willan, with a pot of tea and Aefre’s herb bag. “Aefre,” Aelwydd began, “I do not think this is wise-”

“Shh.” Waving the older woman off, Aefre took the herb bag from Willan and began to sift through it. She pulled out some willow bark and handed it to the mute. “Put some of this in the hot water and pour her a cup.” She turned her attention to her now bristling future mother - in - law. “I’m sorry I was so curt; however, I did promise her.”

“Aefre,” Aelwydd was not to be deterred, “I do not think that this is a wise course of action.”

Willan handed the cup to Eadignes, the girl blushing as she took it. “What is in it?”

“Only a bit of willow bark, to dull the pain and to help relax you. I will decide what is and what is not a wise course of action.” She watched as the older woman’s back stiffened. “Earlier today, you gave me good advice. I listened. Please grant me the same courtesy.”

Aelwydd huffed once and sat down haughtily in a chair, with her arms crossed. “This had better be good!”

Aefre turned back to the girl. “Show me.”

Eadignes was blowing on the cup, steam circling around her head. With a glance at Willan, she set the cup on a low shelf and proceeded to push up her sleeves. “Really, ma’am...”

Aefre took her arm, turning her wrist back and forth. “Finger marks.”

“Yes. He was... inexperienced and didn’t realize how...”

“Who was it?”

“Ma’am, I -”

“Who was it?”

Eadignes closed her eyes, determined not to be pushed around by this strong-willed woman. “Wulfric dealt with him. He was not quite a man and not much more than a boy. It is taken care of.”

Aefre was slowly circling her, corralling the girl into a corner. “Yet, he was enough to cause you to set your mind on this course of action.”

“My mind was set some time ago!” Eadignes snapped. “This was simply the last straw!”

“Ah.” Aefre turned her back and sank down in the other chair. Her fingers were steepled, her chin resting on her thumbs. “You are determined not to return?”

“Yes. I will not go back.”

Aefre turned and looked over her shoulder, her chin still on her thumbs, “ I must know now how certain you are of this path.”

Eadignes stomped over to stand in front of Aefre, settling her hands on her hips. “I will not go back! I don’t care! I’ll ... work in the kitchens, clean the privies, whatever, do anything to keep from going back!”

“Do you truly wish to clean privies? Or do you have something else in mind?”

Eadignes sank to her knees, pleading with the woman in the chair in front of her. “M’lady, you know I truly wish to be a healer. You said you would help. You promised.”

Aefre reached out and fondled the long curl lying on the girl’s shoulder. “Yes, I did. I promised.” She thought for a moment. “I must know how determined you are.”

“I will not go back!”

“Eadignes, you must think hard. Starting tomorrow, you will rise early and go to bed late. You will shadow me for several days before I find a healer who will train you. They won’t want to and I will have to force one to take you on. They will be waiting for you to falter, to change your mind. And if you do, no one will give you another chance, including me. I will take this risk for you but once and only this once.” Aefre tilted her head, gauging the response in Eadignes’ eyes. “They will be hard on you, the whispering will be fierce. There will be men you have known who will consider you free property and women who know you have bedded their sons and husbands for pay. They will talk, whisper; and you will have a difficult time making friends-”

“Are you my friend?”

The statement took Aefre aback. She thought for a second. “Do you wish my friendship?”

“Aye.” Eadignes voice was unwavering, strong. “You are all the friend I need.”

Aefre looked at Willan, seeing the open admiration in his eyes. “I think I will not be the only friend you have.” She patted her on the hand, before turning to Willan. “Please see if Gamling needs anything. I’m going to get Eadignes settled before coming up to bed. I might be very late so he should not wait up for me.”

Willan nodded to her before smiling at Eadignes and leaving. 

“He’s very... quiet.”

Aefre narrowed her eyes, seeing the strange look on Aelwydd’s face. “You and I have discussed that before. You have other things to attend to first, before looking for a possible bed partner. ” She tapped Eadignes on the back of the hand. “I am not joking. It will be very hard work.”

Eadignes stood up slowly, pulling her sleeves down to cover the bruising on her arms. “I don’t want a bed partner. I don’t want anyone. I’m not afraid of hard work. Just as long as you let me cry on your shoulder, if need be.”

“If need be.” Aelwydd was shaking her head. “Let’s get you settled and put something on your arms. I don’t know if we can help the bruising, but we should be able to at least to ease the discomfort.”

 

***

Gamling made an angry circle around the chamber.

_***Dammit!***_

He made another angry circle around the chamber.

_***Dammitdammitdammit...***_

He stopped, eyes squeezed as tight as his white- fingered hold on his ale mug.

_***Who would... do that...***_

For the first time in many years, Gamling wished his da, his former king, the current king..

_***Wish Háma were here...***_

...someone to talk to.

Despite her desperate attempt to cover them, the bruises on Eadignes’ arms were visible not only to Aefre, but to him as well. Much to his and the crowd in the Hall’s consternation, the now-former prostitute was whisked off between his bride - to - be and his mother to parts unknown - more than likely, the room where Aefre had hidden from him for the better part of two days.

“Dammit!” He flung the tankard he had been clutching so tightly viciously into the cold grate of the fireplace. The clay mug shattered, shards flying, ricocheting within the fireplace. Willan immediately moved around him to clean the broken bits, but Gamling stopped him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Leave it. I’ll do it.” The Rider waved him off, irritated at his own loss of control. “I want-” Gamling grabbed another tankard of ale, not realizing it was Willan’s, “to know who did it.”

Willan shrugged, clearly at a loss.

“There is no need, no reason for any man to harm a woman! Even in play! Ever!”

Willan nodded in agreement.

“You were there; you went with her. You saw it. It was bad? Was she in any pain?”

Again, Willan shrugged, clearly at a loss to communicate with the angry Rider. On a whim, the mute picked up from the mantel the frayed, worn ribband that Gamling had refused to remove from his hand until recently. The stitching was barely visible, the edges, raveling. He gestured to Gamling, holding out the narrow strip of material.

“No,” Gamling snarled, “I can’t talk to Aefre about it. She is my future wife... my future...” The servant gestured again. Clearly, Willan thought Gamling was underestimating Aefre. 

“Willan,” Gamling sank in a chair, resting his chin on a propped fist, “Eadignes is a nice girl... she’s a sweet girl. She deserves some happiness in this life. I would be happy if she could find a man who could overlook what she was and love her for who she is.” He lifted Willan’s mug and stared into its murky depths. “I care about her, Willan. I don’t love her, but I care. I worry. How do I explain that to Aefre?” There was silence as Gamling finished Willan’s ale and Willan reverently put the ribband back on the mantle, where Gamling had placed it. 

“Damn it, man! I’ve drunk your ale! Why didn’t you punch me?” 

Willan rolled his eyes in annoyance and waved him off. _*Don’t worry about it.*_

“I would hurt a man who drank my ale without so much as a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’! So,” he toasted Willan, “thank you!” Gamling finished the tankard before continuing, “I’ll buy you a bottle of Wulfric’s finest if you find out who hurt Eadignes.”

The mute nodded in agreement. He gestured, once. _*Anything else?*_

The sun had set and the moon had risen hours previously, casting a calming glow into the room. “One more thing...” Willan waited expectantly. “Where’s Aefre?”

***

_***This is stupid.***_

Gamling stood in front of Aefre’s chamber door - a faint glow visible beneath the crack. 

_***This is really stupid. I should not be nervous. Why am I nervous?***_

With an unusual show of bravado, the Rider lifted a fist and rapped loudly on the door.

“Who is it?” Aefre’s voice was open, questioning.

_***as if she didn’t KNOW who would be banging on her door this late at night***_

Looking both up and down the hallway, ensuring no one could overhear him, Gamling leaned toward the door, “Grunt, the Mountain Man.”

There was a rustling behind the door. “Is it really?” Her voice was filled with mock horror.

“Really.”

“Oh, Béma, what should I do?”

Gamling was now leaning against the door, rolling his eyes in rare good humor. “I suppose you could call out for a strong Horse Lord to cork him.”

“Hmm,” Aefre’s voice was now a whisper from the door. “On second thought, I don’t think you’re Grunt, the Mountain Man at all.”

Gamling looked affronted. “You don’t? Why not?”

“Grunt, the Mountain Man wouldn’t knock.”

_***Ooooh. She’s right. She’s good!...***_

Gamling again scanned the hallway, ensuring his and Aefre’s privacy. He was leaning completely against the door, his cheek pressed to the wood. “Aefre, please let me in.”

The door was yanked open and the Horse Lord fell in, headfirst. He regained his balance and reached out, grabbing Aefre by the wrist as she slammed the door. He pulled her into his arms, one hand cupping the curve of her backside, the other threading through her hair. Her mouth reached for his, starving, wanting, need...

“Béma!” Gamling gasped when he came up for air. “I’ve wanted to do that all night!” He turned her loose and began to kick off his boots.

“Gamling, what are you doing?” Aefre asked quietly.

Both boots were now off and he now sat in a chair to pull off his woolen stockings. “I’m taking off my boots.” He dropped one in each boot and rose to set them by the door.

“Why?”

The question stopped him cold.

_***Why?... Why not?...***_

“I came,” he started gently, “ to escort you back to our chambers.” There was an obvious stress on the word ‘our.’ He set the bar on her door with a deliberate ‘plop.’ “However, you are already dressed for bed,” he gestured to her demure white cotton shift and nodded to the turned down bed and the cup of tea by the bedside. “It’s obvious to me that we’ll be sleeping here tonight.”

Aefre blushed, something Gamling found to be quite amusing. Her toes curled in the rug. “Gamling, you can’t stay here with me tonight.”

“Why not?” He had her by the hand and was now pulling her towards the chair.

“We’re getting married in a few weeks. It... it’s not right. It’s unseemly... improper...”

The Horse Lord rolled his eyes and sat down, pulling her into his lap. He adjusted her on his legs and proceeded to pull on the strings holding the bodice of her night shift together. “So?”

Aefre began retying what Gamling was untying. “We aren’t married yet. We shouldn’t be-”

“Didn’t stop us before.” Gamling moved her hands from her ties. “Stop tying what I’m untying.”

“Gamling-”

“Aefre,” he shot back playfully. He finally smirked at her glare. “Aefre, I have waited too long for you. I do not particularly care if we set the biddies’ tongues wagging, I don’t particularly care if anyone walks in right now and catches me fondling you.” He took the opportunity to slip his hand in her gown and do precisely that, teasing the nipple to a stiff peak. “And if you continue to wiggle like that, I shall take you on the floor with your shift still on.” He took advantage of her open mouth to kiss her. “We’re having a baby, we’re getting married in three weeks, and I refuse to sleep alone just for propriety’s sake. Now,” he nuzzled her neck, “are we going to finish this on the floor, or would you prefer the niceties of the bed?”

Aefre sighed with resignation. He was going to have his way and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Truth be told, her heart wasn’t in it to force him back to his... their... chambers and she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping alone, either. “The bed.”

“Good girl. Up you go.” He patted her on her upper thigh, signaling for her to rise. As he followed her up, he noticed a familiar lump under her bed. “Aefre? Is that my saddlebag under your bed?”

Aefre stopped, her nightgown gaping generously, as she peered under the bed. “You know, with everything, I had totally forgotten about it.” She leaned over and pulled it out. “Haleth brought it up the morning after you arrived, but I had my hands quite full with you at the time.” Gamling reached over and pulled it from her grasp. “Had I remembered, I would have had your clothes cleaned for you.”

A crease of emotional pain marred his features, remembering what lay at the bottom, beneath the small flasks of perfumed oils and bolts of cloth and ribbons and his spirited mood fell. “I’m glad you didn’t open it.”

“Oh?”

With a mild grunt, he plopped the saddlebag on the bed.

_***Cenedanthemarkthemark...***_

“Is there something in there for me?” Aefre’s eyes were alight with mischief and anticipation.

_***ohnodoubt I have somethingforyou...***_

“Aefre-” Gamling halted, clearly at a loss for words. A calloused hand slid into his.

“Just Gamling. There is something in there for me, isn’t there?”

“There are... several things in there for you, curious miss.” He tried to force his voice to a more jovial tone.

With considerable effort, Aefre’s hand pushed the heavy saddlebag away and she climbed on the bed to sit in front him, her face peering into his. “What is wrong?”

Gamling shook his head, in effort reassure her. “Nothing.” 

“You are troubled.”

_***dammitdammitbreakmewhileyouareatit...***_

His eyes were now shut, his head continuing to nod. “I have much on my mind.”

“When you are troubled, who do you talk to?”

“When I’m... Aefre!” Gamling moved to pull the saddlebag into reach. “I don’t talk!”

Aefre shoved the bag further away. “No, you don’t, except in your sleep! You aren’t getting out of this one.” She pulled both of his hands into her lap. “Gamling, I sat with you for three days. The things that came from your mouth, your dreams, I can’t begin to imagine. You still talk in your sleep. You are so restless, please talk to me, tell me.”

_*** Talktalktalksolikeawoman Da gone, Théoden gone, Éomer not here, too youngyounganyway, Cenedan, Háma-***_

“-gone.”

He felt pulled in, drawn in, being drawn into the safe harbor between her knees. “Who’s gone?”

Gamling stared at her in horror, the weight of all of it crashing down. “I can’t name all the dead...” his voice trailed off.

“I don’t expect you to.” Aefre’s voice was soft, Gamling vaguely aware she had set it in tone as if to beguile the plants from the earth. “You have me to talk to. I will listen.”

Gamling’s head ticked to the side, breaking eye contact, as he sought out the saddlebag. “You talk too much to listen,” he mumbled.

“I heard that and I’m not angry.” She was smiling humorlessly. Aefre’s grip tightened in his hand. “ What bothers you?”

Gamling stared at the bag long and hard, clearly wrestling with many thoughts.

“Let’s start with something small. What both-”

“Eadignes.”

“What about Eadignes?”

Gamling was now staring at the heavy curtains, pulled back from the window, in order to allow a fresh breeze in. “Who hurt her?” For a time, there was no answer from the woman in front of him. He finally looked at her, his countenance hard, set. “I’ll not have a man in my command who would hurt a woman.”

“If he injures a woman, he would injure his horse.”

“YES!” It came out hard and fast, much more explosive than he intended. Finally, Gamling shook his head, at the absurdity of it. “Aefre, this is difficult.”

“I’m sure it is.” A gentle squeeze. “In some ways, it is for me as well. Should I start?”

No answer, simply an answering squeeze.

There was a gentle exhalation in breath before Aefre started. “Eadignes is fine. She has mild bruising from one who she says was too young and too inexperienced. She has refused to divulge his name and I think Willan will watch her rather closely, as will I and you too, I suspect. As for you, you’ve bedded her, probably more than once, there are feelings you can’t resolve-”

_***zingingAefrearrowsoftruth***_

“I do not love her!”

“Well!” Aefre’s voice was quite light-hearted. “I’m glad we have that out in the open!” Again, she tightened her grip on his hands. “Would you please look at me? I hate talking to the top of your head.” Gamling raised his chin, defiantly, feeling like a rather small child. “There. I have eyes.” Despite Gamling’s stare, Aefre was smiling. “She did me a great service, stitching you up. There was no one else. She sat with me all night, and she talked; oh, how that young woman talked. It was obvious early on that she wished to be elsewhere than where she was.” Aefre pulled her hands from the Rider’s grasp, and encased the outside of his fingers with hers. “She cares for you and you worry about her.”

“Aefre! I don’t-”

“Shh.”

Gamling was now growling and shaking his head, heavy locks of hair moving restlessly. “I do not wish for you to be jealous or to think-”

“Shh.” A single finger touched his lips. “I am not jealous. She brought you comfort at some time?” Aefre didn’t wait for an answer, simply continued on. “I’ll not deny you that. I’ll not deny you softness or need of someone’s touch before me. Whose bed are you seeking tonight? Ah!” She took in his amused smile. “Are you jealous of Lufian?”

_***Jealous of your husband? Ridiculous silly woman...***_

 

For a moment, Gamling’s jaw flapped. “Why... why would I be jealous of Lufian? He was your husband-”

Aefre’s smile enlarged. “Did you know that Lufian was fifteen years my senior?” She nudged over and pulled him down beside her on the bed. “He came to our farm when I was but sixteen summers to barter horses and saw me riding one of my father’s biggest stallions. He told my father if I was not promised, he would wed me immediately.” Aefre smiled at the memory. “My Da damned near strangled him.”

“Good!”

Aefre was now grinning like the kitchen cat that was under the chopping block when the milk was spilt. “My Da told Lufian he didn’t care that he had the largest farm in the Wold. He didn’t care that he had the largest garrison and the most Riders under him in the North of the Riddermark. He didn’t care that he was respected and well thought of. In the end, the choice would be mine; that whoever I decided to allow to wrap his cloak around me would be my decision and no one else’s. Then he told him not to try anything because I could gullet an Orc as easily as any man. That’s when he pointed out my morningstar attached to my saddle.” Aefre was now engrossed in her tale, her mind far back to a bright summer day. “When he left, my father ranted for days. Told me men were evil, nasty creatures, to stay away from them. I had to remind him several times, he himself was one of those evil, nasty creatures and even in a fit of temper from his own father, who was another one of those evil, nasty creatures, had taken off to Gondor and married himself the first pretty Gondorian lady who could understand his pathetic Westron! He threatened to lock me in my room.”

Gamling scooted over next to her, pulling her under his arm. “I think I would have liked your da.”

“Yes, you would have,” Aefre admitted. “Except, Lufian kept coming back. Every couple of weeks. A question about this horse, this and that. It was soon apparent that he was coming to see me. Took a year before he finally started talking to me, however.”

“Da was angry, but I enjoyed the man’s company. He knew his horses, was amused when he saw me sparring with my brother. Well,” she stopped for a moment to collect her thoughts, “he was amused until the day he stepped into the yard with me to try his hand and I knocked him flat on his arse in under a minute.” She wagged her finger under Gamling’s nose. “He underestimated me - just like the Horse Lord I’m marrying in a few weeks did when I first met him.”

Gamling shook his head in denial. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Pah!” Aefre backhanded his arm lightly. “Long story shortened somewhat, after five summers, he asked again. Only this time, he asked me and in front of my Da. After we were married, he took me to his home. It was well-founded, had a large garrison and many people, families who lived under Lufian’s protection. I was over-whelmed, scared. I had handled my Da’s household, but it was nothing...it was more than I expected.” Aefre was swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, before sliding off. Bypassing the tea, she took a hidden bottle of wine from the shelf by the fireplace. “I was befriended by the cook - a woman some years older than myself. She was helpful to me, taught me much. I enjoyed her company.” She poured a generous amount into the goblet and handed it to Gamling, before turning back to the shelf to grab another goblet. “I began to hear whispering and finally, one of the chambermaids, a rather gossipy thing, told me the cook had kept my husband’s bed warm on many a cold night before my marriage. If I was a ‘proper Rohirrim,’ I would throw the woman out on her ear.”

“Busybody.” Gamling’s voice echoed in his cup.

“Exactly, but it didn’t change that I was young and impressionable and the thought that my husband had been bedding another woman while wooing me did not sit well. Luckily,” she took a sip, “I went to him, before I went to her.” She drained the cup, almost too quickly. “That night, I learned about compassion, about a lonely man and a lonely, frightened widow with a small child. He hadn’t been with her in... oh... three, four years, yet, they remained friends, had maintained their friendship after he realized he truly loved me. And rather than leave in a huff, she cherished his friendship and stayed to aid a young bride who was out of place and out of her league concerning a garrison and a large household.” 

Aefre smiled into her cup. “She married Scéotan, one of the Riders, a few years later, stayed on and continued to make fabulous meals out of little. In fact, she and her husband followed me when I was forced out and last I recall, she was in my grandmother’s home, trying to clean the cobwebs, to make it habitable upon my return.” Finally, she set the goblet down. “When all was said and done, I’ll not rue the time Lufian spent in Englewynne’s arms. It was before me. Why should I be jealous of Eadignes?” Deftly untying the strings on her shift, she opened it, not exposing herself, but leaving no doubt of the cleft or definition. “So,” she smiled saucily, her fingers tracing the edge of her skin, the trim on the opening of her gown, “are you going to show me what’s in that saddlebag for me, or do you have something else in mind?” 

Gamling pulled her towards him, his respect for the woman moving between his legs renewed and growing. He put his hands to the remaining ties, deftly baring all of her to him. With seeming reverence, he stroked the smooth skin of her belly, already firm with his child. “I have much in mind, My Lady. However, the saddlebags would wait until tomorrow eve, as I would not want to rouse from such a fine place.”

“In the morning-”

“No. You are an early riser and I am not.” His hands slid up under the shoulders of her gown lifting it off and back. “There will be much to do and you and I will not have time to ourselves until tomorrow evening.” The cotton shift fell in a heap on the floor as he pressed his hands to her backside and maneuvered her into his own still - clothed heat. Pulling her close, he trailed the tip of his nose between her breasts, reveling in her scent; apples with an underlying essence of musky desire. 

Her arms stole around his head, gently trapping him within. “I don’t think,” she breathed huskily, “this will wait.”

_***ohnononoohnoitwon’t...***_

With one hand, Gamling pushed the saddlebag to the floor; with the other, he clasped her to him, pulling her to the bed, on top of him.

And once clothes had been divested and heaped in a haphazard pile on the floor, the room smelled of sweat and sex and the only sound were sighs of sated contentment...

... that niggling voice of Gamling’s reminded him he had only put off the inevitable.

***  
tbc  
***


	32. 31 - Turn and Face the Strain, Ch Ch Cha- a-a-nges

**_Rider of the Mark 31_**

**_Turn and face the strain, ch-ch-ch-Cha-anges..._**

***

Gamling awoke to an empty bed, her side cool to the touch. But the pillow so close to his was dented and it held the essence of apples. The small window had been thrown open and he could hear not only the squires and chores being done outside, but also the bustle of the chambermaids and servants outside the door. For a moment he smiled at the thought of shocking all of them by sauntering out of her room barely dressed, but decided against it. Soon this would be over and done with it and an embarrassed Aefre could very well mean a hiding Aefre and Béma knew he did NOT want to go through that again!

_***She’s going to make me wear fussy clothes. Dammit!***_

After dealing with his morning ritual, (morning face wash, morning beard wash, morning wood...) he dressed in last evening’s clothes. His saddlebag was pushed to the foot of the bed, still unopened. With a heavy sigh, he opened the door, peaking out to make sure the hall was clear.

It wasn’t.

Two women of middle years stood to the left of the door, arms laden with dirty linen and both turned to gawk at him as he stuck his head out the doorway.

“Sir?” the more brazen of the two finally asked, a rather cheeky and disrespectful grin on her face. “Are you looking for Lady Aefre?”

“Uhm... no.”

“That is her chamber, you know.”

“I...I...” Gamling felt himself cornered, “I was looking for something.”

“Did you find it?” the other asked, just as jauntily.

Thinking quickly, he turned and grabbed the saddlebag from the foot of the bed. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” The Rider swung the saddlebag over his shoulder and headed down the hall to his own chambers. He hadn’t gotten eight steps, when he heard one call out, “Marshal, your lady certainly takes up a lot of bed space. One would think two slept in her bed last night.”

Gamling growled, but continued to move up the hallway.

After depositing the saddlebags at the foot of his own unslept in bed, Gamling made his way down into the Hall, grateful he hadn’t slept too late and there was still some bread, cheese, and ale on a sideboard in order to break his fast. In no time, the rumbling of his stomach was quelled and he was turning his attention to the stables, when he passed Willan, an armload of wall tapestries in his arms. Gamling stopped him with a single raised finger.

“Move Aefre’s things to my chambers.” Willan nodded. “Make sure she knows I do not wish to hunt her down this eve.” The Horse Lord stalked proudly out through the main doors, nodding at the door guards as he went through the opened entrance.

“Did that boy of mine say what I think he said?” Aelwydd had come up behind Willan as silent as a creeping Elf. Willan nodded, his eyes still on the retreating figure of the woman’s son. “I swear, he has no brain for propriety or-” She caught Willan’s shaking head, the meaning clear.

_*I’m not gainsaying him.*_

“Béma! He’s more stubborn than a mountain sheep! Don’t know where he gets it from!” Gamling’s mother was presented with the servant’s back as he turned to take the smoke - tinged wall tapestries to the laundress and then on to do as Gamling had bid.

Gamling was pleased to see Riders and the stables finally moving back into a working routine. Almost all of the Riders in the garrison had been sent out to scour the countryside - to see first hand what damage had been wrought by Isengard and Mordor. He had seen some of the damage on his way home, but had been more occupied by watching out for Orcs and Dunlendings. As if to answer him, his side twitched-

_***didn’t watch close enough***_

What few horses that were left were being exercised by grooms, young squires - Riders in training. Haleth had Adenydd and Dréogan both on a turnstile wheel. He lowered a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “How long have they been on?”

Haleth looked up, eyes bright in the sun. He was losing that haggard look, thin cheeks were filling out and he had clamped his long hair back with a leather knot to keep it from flying in his eyes.

_***looklikeyourfather...***_

“Not long, sir. Ten, perhaps fifteen minutes.” Gamling nodded. He went into the stables, noting the cleanliness of the stalls. The back northeast stall was still soggy from excessive rain, but he was gladdened to see two young Riders along with a roofer, inspecting and digging, searching for the leak. A wet stall was useless and the Rohirrim wasted nothing - food, cloth, or space. This winter and next, they would not, could not afford to waste anything.

“Have you found it?” he asked quietly.

The roofer was on a ladder, making marks. “I think so, Marshal. The roof here appears to have rusted through.” He started down the ladder. “I’ll repair it and then I’ll pour a bucket of water on it and see if that stops it.” Before the man could take a breath to continue, clanging was heard from the watchtower.

Gamling rushed out, eyes darting to find the tower that was calling. He soon ascertained the Northwest tower bell was clanging and he hurried to scale the stair to see out.

It winded him, climbing those stairs that fast and again he cursed the Orc whose blade had found its way under his armor, as well as his own stupidity at not noticing the thing and his own now - slowness. Rather than give in to his devitalized energy, he bowed up and scowled, covering the irritating pain from the stitch in his side. “Where?” he growled, breathing deep to control his wheezing.

The young guard - not more than a boy, slightly older than Haleth - pointed over the fields, the dust obvious.

“A single Rider. Probably one of those I sent out.” Gamling narrowed his eyes, trying to see further. “Wait until he’s closer and you can definitely make out beast and the Rider’s cloak. I will tell the gate to prepare to be opened.”

Going down was definitely easier than going up and by the time Gamling reached the gate, the call from the tower had gone out to open the gate, to clear the path. Gamling stood back, watching the Rider barrel into the city proper, stopping dead in front of the Marshal and dismounting.

Abéodan climbed down before removing his helmet. “Walk with me Rider, while you take your horse to the stables and rub him down.” Gamling reached for the young Horse Lord’s helmet. He waited until he had shooed the younglings from earshot before asking. “How bad?”

Abéodan turned haunted eyes to his commanding officer. “I only saw a bit, sir. And if...” He took a deep breath and sighed. “I hope the rest isn’t...”

“Say it.”

Abéodan’s sparsely whiskered jaw trembled. “It’s razed. Razed to the ground.” He finally gained enough courage to look Gamling in the eye. “There is no food, no seed, no cattle, no sheep, no homes, no timber. Even the ground is burnt. The Westfold lies in ruins and what few people are left are starving.”

***

“Helgarda! I need to speak with you!”

The elderly healer had her back to the younger woman, her pestle and mortar working tirelessly. “I am rather busy, Aefre. If you are still ill in the mornings-”

“No. I’m not ill.” Aefre went to the opposite side of the table. “Not much anymore.” She fingered the other bowls on the table. “I still can’t eat meat.”

Helgarda inspected the contents of the bowl, her aging eyes squinting in the dust filled room, before shaking her head and sticking her finger in, testing the size and coarseness of the pummeled seed on her calloused fingers. Shaking her head in disgust, she flicked the seeds back into the bowl and began to grind again. “That might be for your entire pregnancy. I could eat nothing but steamed vegetables with my last one.” She continued to crush at the seed. “What can I do for you?”

Aefre looked up from the elderly woman, to the young woman standing quietly in the door behind her. Eadignes had put on her least revealing dress that was still too revealing. Whether Helgarda knew two had entered the room, she gave no mention.

“It’s about Eadignes.”

Helgarda stopped for a moment, not so deep in thought. “The girl from the Blue Whale?”

“Yes.”

Helgarda resumed her grinding. “Is she pregnant and wish to rid herself of the child?”

“I would do no such thing!” Eadignes blurted, outraged. “I have used herbs and lore to prevent such a thing happening!”

“Didn’t know you were standing behind me,” Helgarda muttered angrily, still working on the bowl in her hand. “So, what is it you wish of me?”

Aefre smiled. “Helgarda, you need an assistant, an apprentice-”

“No, I don’t.”

Aefre waved Eadignes off, her jaw opening to retort again.

“Helgarda, Riders and survivors from the War and from the Eastfold are pouring into Edoras daily. Most are tending old and festering injuries. Many women are...” she looked quickly at Eadignes, before reverting her attention back to the old woman in front of her- “pregnant and will be giving birth during the dead of winter. I suspect with the Riders coming back, there will be many more babies come spring and early summer. You can’t possibly attempt to keep up-”

Helgarda slammed the bowl down with loud crack, causing the seed to bounce and spill on the table. “I am not so old that I need help!”

“Yes, you are!” Aefre retorted. “You couldn’t sew up the Marshal! Why should I trust you to catch my babe when the time comes?” She ignored Eadignes’ shocked look.

Helgarda gritted her teeth. “Not. Her.”

“And why not?”

Helgarda tilted her head. “Not many will allow her into their homes-”

“If they are desperate enough for her services, they will. If they are in enough pain, they will.”

Helgarda turned to the young girl now at her elbow, rheumy eyes obvious in the bright sun. “Begging your pardon, miss-” The word ‘miss’ was derogatorily spat, “but you are nothing more than-”

“I know what I was, you old crone!” Eadignes was not going to be pushed around. “And I know what I wish to be!” The young woman had pulled herself up to her full, very unimpressive height. “I do not wish to receive anymore of these!” She shoved her arms under Helgarda’s nose, the bruises visible. Helgarda squinted, trying to see what had been thrust in front of her very nose. “You can’t see them, can you?”

“I can see just fine, missy!”

“No, you can’t!” Both healer and healer-to-be turned to the displaced noblewoman on the other side of the table. “You couldn’t see to stitch a Marshal of the Riddermark up. You sent for her, because she was the best. And she did a damn fine job of it!”

Helgarda returned to her bowl and pestle. “I’m sure she had plenty of practice and customers at the Blue Whale.” She had picked up the bowl and began to grind. “That doesn’t mean she’s good enough to be my apprentice.”

“You’re grinding an empty bowl!” Eadignes retorted. 

Helgarda stuck her finger into the bowl and ran the digit through the curve. Blushing slightly, she set it down and glared at Aefre. “See how distracted you have got me?”

“Helgarda-”

“Ask someone else.”

“You’re the best.”

Helgarda grinned, showing several missing teeth. “Turned you down too, did they?”

“I would prefer she train with you.” Aefre was persistent.

Helgarda nodded curtly towards the healer-to-be. “And what happens when it gets to hard and she quits? Where does that leave me?”

“I won’t quit.”

“How could you ask me this, Aefre? I’ll bet she’s bedded Gamling.”

Aefre never blinked. “I have every intention of her catching my babe.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Yes, I am.”

Helgarda looked nervously at her table, eyes searching for the correct bowl. “The people won’t accept her. I won’t accept her. She lays with men, good men, married men, for pay-”

Eadignes picked up the bowl Helgarda had been looking for and stared into it, before taking the pestle. She dusted the spilt seed from the table into the bowl and skillfully began to grind. “Aye. I have. And aye, I’ve bedded Gamling more than my fair share. He was my favorite, if you must know, and Lady Aefre is a lucky lady and a generous one as well.” The girl never looked up from the bowl, just continued to methodically grind. “It’s been many months since he’s been down to the Blue Whale. In fact, it was before last Yule, before the first snowfall, best of my recollection. I’ve not even seen him come in for drinks in that time. Are you married, Helgarda?”

The old woman sputtered. “Yes! Yes I am! And my husband spends too much time in that place, if you ask me!”

Aefre raised her eyebrows at Eadignes, finally seeing the source of the old woman’s ire. 

Eadignes never looked up, just continued. “You know, there is an elderly Horse Lord who comes down often. Wears his Rider’s cloak as if he rode to war yesterday, just as proud as any Horse Lord, I’ve seen. Buys us all drinks. Anyone in the tavern.” She was intent on the dust in the bowl. “Never lays with any of the girls. He loves his wife too much, but he says she won’t listen when he talks.” Aefre began to drift towards the door. “All he wants is someone to talk to.”

“That’s all he does?”

The last thing Aefre heard as she opened the latch and slipped out was Eadignes whispering, “Helgarda, what am I mashing up in this bowl and what is it used for?”

***

“I am quite put out with you!”

Aefre stood with her back against the latched door, arms crossed and looking very put out indeed. Her things had been placed haphazard all over Gamling’s chambers and she could see hours of work straightening the mess.

_***Great way to start our life together! She’s put out! Perfect! I feel married already!***_

Gamling had pulled off his boots and was now tossing his woolen stockings in them. “I saw no need for your things to remain in your chamber. You’re moving into my rooms anyway and-”

“Gamling!” Aefre hissed, “This is improper! This is...how long have you worn those stockings?” She pointed to the stiff and sweat-incrusted woolens Gamling was putting into his boots.

“I don’t give a warg’s arse about improper!” He pulled the woolens back out to inspect them. “From the moment I left for Gondor, I thought about you. I thought about you until I caught up with the Eorlings’s, I thought about you as we closed in on Gondor, I thought about you when we charged Pelennor Fields, I thought about you at the Black Gate-”

“Wonderful! You faced monsters and trolls galore, and they reminded you of me!”

Gamling clutched a stocking in the fist of his hand in order to point an admonishing finger at her. “I did not say that! And don’t change the subject!” He caught a whiff of his stockings and held them out at arm’s length away from him. “A few days. Why?”

“Put those in your laundry basket in the water closet-”

“I have a laundry basket in the antechamber?”

Aefre just stared at him, the wind knocked out of her sails. “What do you do with your dirty clothes?”

_***uh oh in trouble now ooooooooh***_

“Laundry Elves?”

Aefre’s jaw dropped and she mouthed, ‘Laundry Elves?’ She smacked herself in the head and turned towards the bolted door. “I don’t believe it. I’m going to have two babies!”

A gentle hand grabbed her by the elbow. “I’m teasing, Aefre.” Slowly, he turned her around. “Besides, if you go to your room, it’s empty, except for the bed. Grunt, the Mountain Man would have no problem getting to you. I would be most aggrieved if that stinking, smelling-”

“Just Gamling-”

“-filthy Orc lover tried to run off with my Shield Madam!” Gamling moved between Aefre and the door, corralling her back towards the bed. He cupped her face in his hands, lowering his face towards hers. “Besides, you would miss me in your bed.”

Aefre allowed the kiss to linger for quite some time, the heat of it warming her to her toes. “Ah, I don’t know. You or Grunt. One in the same to me.”

Gamling lifted his head slightly, eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Aefre pulled away from him, smiling beguilingly. She turned, swishing her skirts. “I was simply saying that to hear you carry on last night, one would think I had bedded Grunt, the Mountain Man.”

Gamling followed her, followed her hips, his finger waving at her. “Are you saying I have the finesse of a Dunlending?”

“No.” Aefre managed to put a chair between the two of them. “I’m saying you sounded like a-”

“Oh!” Gamling cut her off. “I suppose you think you wouldn’t make so much noise if you were riding the Mearas?” 

“Are you going to let me try?”

“I-” he lunged around the chair, catching her off guard. “-might!” Gamling pulled her into his embrace. “I’m not letting you go. You’re not going back to your old chambers.”

“You don’t give a damn about propriety.”

“Right!” He pulled her in closer, weaving her towards the bed.

“People are going to talk.”

Aefre’s knees hit the bed and Gamling lifted her up and on it. “Let them talk. They will have something new to talk about afterwards. Now,” he stepped backwards and waggled his eyebrows. “Do you want to ride the Mearas, or not?”

Aefre was completely nonplused. “I want to know why Abéodan rode into Edoras as if the WitchKing of Angmar was on his tail and what he said to upset you so badly.”

If Gamling expected anything from her mouth, that was not it. “What?”

“I said, I want to know-”

“I heard you. Don’t repeat it!” He stepped back slightly, hands on his hips. “How did you know-”

“Never mind how I knew.” She found herself the recipient of a hard-nosed Marshal Gamling Stare. “Oh, for Béma’s sake! When he came in to eat, he bent Willan’s ear. He was starving, needed a bath and rest, and talking a league a minute. And you came in behind him, looking as if... well, not very happy. I saw you go to Théoden’s council chambers. I brought you mead, remember?” Gamling nodded, floored by what she had gleaned by just watching. He didn’t remember her bringing mead, just that it had materialized at his elbow and the mug continued to stay full. “You were pouring over maps - specifically the Westenmet.” She took him by the hands. “What can I do to help?”

Gamling never hesitated, his scowl never let up. “I have sent Riders through out Rohan, to assess the damage done to the land, to its people. Éomer will need to know, want to know.”

“And?”

Gamling cleared his throat. “Abéodan is only the first, but I suspect any Rider from the same area will tell the same.”

“And?”

“Would you be quiet?” Gamling’s voice was curt, sharp, but Aefre didn’t seem to be upset by it. He would apologize in his own way, later. “Abéodan went into the Westfold. Horses are scattered, homes are burnt to the ground, cattle, sheep are gone. Even the land is burnt. Farmland will have to lie fallow for one to two years. There is very little grazing land, no crops, no trees. They are starving, Aefre. No way to rebuild.”

“They can fish in the Angren-”

“No, they can’t!” Gamling was now shaking his head. “The Uruk-hai of Isengard pissed in the water and killed everything. When the Ents attacked Saruman, they flooded it. Saruman’s machines and dead Orcs have poisoned the water for who knows how long.” A sudden headache sprang up and Gamling rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t trust anything that came out of the Angren for at least a year.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back, “Two, if you wish the truth.”

Gamling felt himself being pushed into a chair and the magic fingers he had fallen in love with not so many moons ago began to work on his neck.

“We’ll send word to the farmers of the Eastemnet. They weren’t as misfortunate as the Westfold. We’ll have them fish in the Anduin and the Entwash and not slaughter a single sheep. Any extra grain they have hoarded, they can send to the Westfold. I’ll talk to the cook; we can send laying hens-”

“Aefre-”

“And we can fish the Entwash as well as the Snowbourne-”

“Aefre, it won’t be enough.” Gamling pulled from her and stood up. “It might help for a short time, but... I saw the southern portion of the Eastfold when we returned from Gondor. They won’t be able to grow anything for some time. Our people aren’t fishermen. And they need wood, for homes; long grasses for the thatching on the roofs. There is none. They are frightened of Fangorn. They won’t go near that forest. They scattered their horses, so they wouldn’t eat them. Abéodan wasn’t the only one to come in today. Three others also came. Unless we are able to receive aid and quickly, the few who survive until winter, will not survive to Yule!” He ran his fingers through his hair and rested his head in his hands. “I don’t expect much good news from anywhere.”

Again, Aefre’s hands worked the knots in his neck, relieving his headache best she could. “We will do what we can. Éomer should be here shortly and he’ll know who we can ask for help from. Will Gondor be able to aid us in any way?”

Gamling lifted his head from his hands and leaned back. “I don’t know. I am not privy to a King’s Council or negotiations. Only war.” Again, he rose, as if heavily burdened - which he was, and Aefre hurt for him. All of this to be left on Gamling’s shoulders. This was Éomer’s responsibility.

“Where is Éomer? He should be here, for his people, not escorting an Elven Princess to Gondor!”

Gamling went to his bed, pulling the saddlebags to him. He unhooked the latch and pulled it open. “It’s political,” he spat over his shoulder. “Aragorn has been crowned King of Gondor and while Théoden lies in state, Éomer, along with Éowyn, the Steward of Gondor, Faramir, and the Prince of Dol Amroth, all escort his Elven Bride to Gondor.” He pulled out a long bolt of light blue fabric and laid it to the side. “He is making treaties, guaranteeing friendships, assuring alliances. Éowyn and Faramir are ‘a couple’-”

“Éowyn is in love? And is this-” Aefre materialized next to Gamling, fingering the thin, gauzy material, “for anyone special?”

“Faramir is well placed in Gondor; the Steward, to be precise, and apparently a prince in his own right. So, yes, Éowyn is in love, and he seems to like her well enough back. Béma knows we caught them kissing in every dark corner they could find!” Gamling quirked a small smile. “Éomer is quite disgusted by it all, but she appears to be truly happy and Faramir is a good man and beloved by the people of Gondor. Regardless, hopefully the King will have made strong alliances to aid us as we are going to need it. And yes, that is for you. The shopkeeper called it ‘silk.’”

Aefre had opened the bolt, running the material over her hand. “It’s beautiful. There is enough here to make more than a dress.”

“The shopkeepers were more than generous with the Horse Lords of Rohan.”

Aefre’s smile was genuine and the days of exhaustion fell from her face. “Thank you.”

Gamling’s hand tightened around the stone in the bottom of the saddlebag, but he turned it loose and pulled another bolt of fabric - this one bright red cotton. It was followed by a spool of golden thread, several vials of perfumed oil, all of which Aefre uncorked and ‘oooh’ed over. When there was nothing left in the bag-”

“Thank you. All of this is-”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Again, Gamling’s hand tightened around the stone and he found he couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Just Gamling?”

“There... there was a Rider, a high - ranking Horse Lord, who approached me the evening I brought you back to Dunharrow.”

Aefre had recorked all the oils and set them gently on the table. “Did you know this Horse Lord?”

“No. Never met him, never heard of him.”

“Then why would he approach you?” Her voice was very quiet and Gamling almost had to strain to hear her.

“He knew you.”

There was a weighty silence.

“He... said he brought you to Edoras, was in your husband’s service.” Gamling’s hand tightened on the stone, the edges cutting painfully into the palm. “Told Théoden and myself an amazing story. That Gifre isn’t related to Lufian at all. That he knowingly stole your lands from you. I was charged with making sure you got them back.”

Aefre’s hand stole around Gamling’s arm. “I don’t care about it anymore. My home is with you. Wherever Éomer sends you, I will go.”

“No, you don’t understand, Aefre.” Gamling’s eyes were squeezed shut; Aefre could feel him pulling inwards, coiling like a poisonous snake about to strike. “The land, the garrison, was stolen from you. It does not belong to the man who holds it. When Éomer gets back and is crowned, it will become a priority that he answer for his crime.” He wasn’t aware of it, but Aefre saw his knuckles were white, white with the anger Gamling held so tightly within. “Gifre didn’t steal a farm and a few sheep. He stole what I understand is a significant holding with what was an impressive garrison.” He opened his eyes, and she almost stepped back from the barely concealed rage that burned in his eyes. “A garrison that never responded to Théoden King’s call and command. The Rider who approached me was very adamant that I see to it after the war; made it a point to inform me in Théoden’s presence. It will be returned to you.” Gamling’s teeth were clenched and he whispered, “Gifre has much to answer for.”

“I no longer care.” He felt a reassuring squeeze on his arm. “Cenedan came to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Aefre brightened. “Perhaps, Éomer will send you and it will be ours. Ceneden is a good man, an excellent Horseman and he would be honored to serve under your command. You know he and my Da trained Adenydd-” Aefre stopped suddenly as Gamling pulled the mark from the bag and held it out.

“He was next to me... not an arm’s length from me, when he died. It could have easily been me.” He watched as she lifted the mark, reading the inscription in horror as she read the name. “I don’t know if he has family-”

“No.”

“But I wanted you to know, he was loyal to you and Lufian until the end and he wanted to make sure a wrong was righted.”

“No.”

“He was a good man.”

“Noooooo.....”

The mark slid from her hand, bouncing on the bed to the floor. Aefre wasn’t aware of collapsing, wasn’t aware of being pulled onto the bed. She simply knew that she was enveloped and crushed in a protective embrace. For a moment, Gamling wondered exactly how close she had been to this Rider, for her to grieve so deeply. She had been alone for four years before fleeing. 

But he did not entertain the thought long. Had she sought comfort in some past time in the man’s arms, he did not care. It mattered not. At some point, her sobs became hiccups and she didn’t seem aware that he removed her clothing and tucked her into his bed. He moved the fabric to a chair and placed the fallen mark on the mantel. He stripped off, taking an extra moment to put his things in the basket in the antechambers, before lowering the lamps and crawling under the covers with her, to pull her close.

“I’m sorry, Aefre.”

It was a minute before she answered him.

“I’m sorry too.”

***  
tbc  
***


	33. 32 - A turning of the tables

**_Rider of the Mark 32_**

**_A turning of the tables_**

***

Aefre awoke late the next morning, the sun shining brightly. Her face felt tight, swollen, and she had a headache. She rolled over with a groan.

“Good morning.”

Aefre squinted, looking at the hazy shadow that stood in the light of the opened window.

“Gamling?”

“What?” He settled next to her on the bed and stretched out beside her. 

Aefre arched her back, feeling the vertebrae pop. “You’re up before me?”

“You think I cannot rise early?” 

Aefre wanted to smack the smug look off his face. “It is not your normal habit.” Instead, she placed a hand on his chest, her fingers rubbing the neckline of the material between them. “You’re dressed, as well.” She looked up, scowling. “Who are you, and what have you done with the Rider I love?”

A rare chuckle escaped from Gamling’s throat. “I’m Grunt, the Mountain Man in disguise.” The grin fell from his face, however, and he pulled the sheet up to her neck. “Ah, Aefre, you had a difficult night last night and didn’t sleep well.” He wouldn’t admit that her restlessness had kept him up as well. “Between... well, with everything, I want you to rest today-”

“Rest?” Aefre tried to sit up, but the Horse Lord threw a heavy leg over her. “I have things to do, the Hall to run. We have a wedding to plan, who knows when Éomer King and the Elven company will arri- - -”

He shushed her with a deep kiss. “My mother can and is running the Hall today. She has done it before and did it with alarming efficiency. You are to rest; the chambermaids have been ordered to ignore you today.”

“What?” He felt her stiffen up. “You ordered them to _what?_ ”

 

“Ignore you.” His eyes drifted in thought. “Except food. If you want food, they can bring it.”

Aefre gasped angrily. “You... you... troll, you dimwit, you... you... you...oaf-” 

Gamling rolled over her, to settle between her legs. He canvassed her face and neck with kisses. “You are making me very horny.” Before he could go much further, there was a knock at the door. “Ah, fair lady,” he grinned, “you have been rescued!” He continued to roll to the edge of the bed and stood up. Unbarring the door, he slung it open and stepped aside to allow his mother to walk in.

She looked from her son, to her future daughter - in - law. “I interrupted.”

Gamling nodded, much too jovially to suit Aefre. He was up to something.

Aelwydd narrowed her eyes. “Good.” She was carrying a tray and she set it on the small table. “The Hall is talking, you know.”

Gamling sat down to put on his work boots. “Don’t care. There will be Elves here in a few weeks and they will talk about that.” In the distance, a bell began to clang and what frivolity danced on Gamling’s features quickly dissipated. “Another Rider bearing bad news, I’m sure. You,” he pointed at his mother, “make sure she rests. You-” he pointed at Aefre, “stay in bed and do what she tells you.” Quickly, he made his way over to Aefre and kissed her. “Please. For me.” Before she could make one squeak of protest, he had left the room, closing the door behind him.

Aelwydd was shaking her head. “I swear, that boy of mine-”

“Are they really talking?” Aefre questioned. “I’ll move my clothes back to my chambers-”

“No!” Aelwydd was shaking her head and waved the younger woman off. “They aren’t talking! They could care less! Gamling could take you up against a wall and they wouldn’t notice. He’s happy, they are happy; life goes on. They are too busy trying to gather supplies for the Westenmet.”

Aefre threw her feet over the side of the bed. “Well, then-”

A firm grip had her by the knees. “And where do you think you are going?” Aelwydd swung her back and threw the covers back over her. “You heard him! You are not going anywhere. Gamling was in the kitchens disgustingly early and informed all within earshot you had had enough and you were to rest today. And rest you shall!” She turned and retrieved the tray and set it on Aefre’s lap. “I swear, he’s obstinate! I have no idea where he gets it from!”

Aefre picked up the hot tea and blew across the rim. “I have an idea,” she murmured into the steam.

“Well, keep it to yourself.” Aelwydd pulled a chair up next to the bed and propped up on her elbows. “When you finish that, I have a compress for your face.”

“Really, I-”

“You look a fright! Small wonder Gamling’s worried.” She pointed to the food on the tray. “You are still having problems with heavier food?”

Aefre looked around her cup of tea and eyed the dish in front of her with distaste. “Aye, and I’m sick of fruit and plain vegetables.” Setting the cup down, she picked up the toasted bread, twisting it in the light as if to get a better view of it. “And this; dried, stale, bread.” She dropped it back on the platter. “Is this normal?”

“Normal?” Aelwydd straightened out the wrinkles in the bedclothes. “When one is pregnant, everything is normal and everything is not.” She tucked the last corner and whispered, “Gamling told me about your friend, Ceneden. I’m truly sorry.”

Aefre’s breath hitched and she angrily brushed an errant tear from her cheek. “Ceneden was a good man. He was born in my Da’s household and moved to Lufian’s when it became apparent that he had potential in a garrison. Sometimes I think Da sent him so he would have a second set of eyes and ears there when it became obvious I would wed Lufian.” She picked up the bread and began to nibble.

Aelwydd watched her for a few moments. “Gamling won’t ask, but I will. Had he been your lover?”

Aefre choked at the woman’s forthrightness and her gall. “Aelwydd! I don’t believe that-”

“That it’s my business or it’s proper for me to ask? But I did.” The elderly woman had not taken her chin from the cup of her hand. “I didn’t ask to be rude or nosy. I just...” she finally rose up and leaned back in the chair, assessing Aefre with a keen eye, “Gamling said you were distraught when he told you. You cried yourself to sleep and you’ve woken with red, swollen eyes and probably a headache.” She dusted the air towards Aefre’s teacup. “Finish the tea. Willan put willow bark in it to soothe you.” She waited until Aefre had done so, staring balefully at the old woman over her cup. “It worried Gamling to see you in such a state. One wonders if you became so upset while he was gone. According to the chambermaids, you were a paragon of strength.”

“They didn’t see me in the privacy of my room,” Aefre spat angrily. “Ask Willan. He drugged my tea a few times to force me to rest and calm down.” She finished the toast and began on an apple slice. “Ceneden was like an older brother to me. Nothing more.” She finished with the apple and licked the syrup from her fingers, “I loved him dearly, but not in that way.”

“So, you tried, but nothing came of it?”

Aefre glared at the woman from the side. “You are as bad a busybody as the cook.”

Aelwydd shrugged. “Who do you think taught her?”

That brought a smile to Aefre’s face. “I’m not surprised.” She sent a mock glare towards the woman before turning to stare out the window. “He was my friend. That’s all. He was dependable, comfortable.” Aelwydd noticed her plucking nervously at the light quilt. “The best thing he ever did for me was to suggest that I write Théoden and then bringing me here.” At this, she turned and looked her future mother - in - law in the eye. “I wouldn’t have met Gamling. Instead, I would have stayed in my grandmother’s run - down home. Had I married him, it would have been out of solace and we would have hated each other in the end.”

Aelwydd nodded once. “It doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t matter to him. If you forgave him the whore-”

“I don’t think about it. I work hard not to think about it.” Aefre’s voice was curt. “It would do us all well if you wouldn’t throw it in my face. I do not throw Lufian in yours. I wish it didn’t bother him. I’ll not deny him one second of comfort he sought before me.”

Aelwydd’s gaze was scrutinizing, her stare measuring the woman in the bed. “Nor would he have denied you.” She patted Aefre on the thigh. “I said it once; he might not be the most romantic Rider in the Riddermark, but I don’t think you’ll do better. Well, Éomer, maybe,” she shrugged good - naturedly, “but then again, that one will need a lot of taming.”

“He’s too young.”

“Pshaw!” She lifted the tray from Aefre’s lap. “If I were ten... twenty summers younger, I’d teach that one a position or two!” She continued over Aefre’s gasp. “And he’d like it!”

Aefre’s laughter finally spilled out like a waterfall. “You are incorrigible, Mistress Aelwydd! I believe there is a lot more of you in Gamling than either of you care to admit!”

Aelwydd’s smile slowly dimmed. “Nay. He has my eyes. That’s all. Otherwise, he is his Da - his father’s son, through and through, in looks, build, and temperament.” She set the emptied tray down quietly. “Béma, I miss the man. Miss him as I would miss my very breath.”

It was quiet, the older woman reflecting in the past.

“How long?”

Aefre pulled her knees up and tucked them under her chin. Béma only knew she wouldn’t be able to do that much longer. “Eleven summers come this summer.” She sighed deeply. 

“That is a long time to miss someone.” Aelwydd nodded in agreement, her eyes downcast. “Have you ever thought of re-marrying?”

“What?” Gamling’s mother spun, aghast at such a sentiment. “And have another man to clean up after? Absolutely not!” She squinted, a silly thing coming from her. Aelwydd shook herself once, hard, as if to shake off an unbidden memory. “Now, you lie back down. Gamling said rest, and rest, you’re going to do it!”

“I can’t stay here all day.”

“I know you can’t.” She lifted a small bowl and stood next to her. “Lie down and back. And close your eyes.” Aefre did so and felt something cool laid against her eyes. “ ‘Tis cucumbers. Will help the swelling. And I’ve dipped a cloth in witch hazel water.” She laid the wet material across Aefre’s eyes and face. “You just lie here for a while and rest some. I’ll come back in a while and we’ll see where we can sneak you off to.”

When she came back a few minutes later, Aefre was asleep.

***

The days that followed jumbled together. Riders were returning - returning from Gondor, returning from parts spread out, sent by Gamling to assess the state of the countryside. Maps of Rohan were spread out, Gamling making note of everything.

“Burnt. Razed. Few survivors. No cattle. Little cattle. No trees. No trees. No trees.”

The noise in the Golden Hall was punctuated with the bickering of Helgarda and Eadignes.

“Stop walking so fast! I can’t keep up!”

“I swear, you’re slower than constipation with hemorrhoids, old biddy!”

“Girl! Don’t gainsay me-”

“I’ll gainsay you, you old bat! Today, you tell me it’s comfrey. Yesterday, you told me it was balsam. Make up your mind!”

“You are confused! If you would listen-”

“I am listening! You don’t shut up! No wonder your husband can’t get a word in edgewise! You are confusing me on purpose!”

“No, I am testing you!” Pause. “Slow! Down!”

“I’m just going to get the wheelbarrow and put you in with the turnips!”

*** _Ah,_ *** Gamling mused to himself, *** _sounds like home._ ***

The day after he had forced Aefre to stay in bed, he caught her in the stable that afternoon, saddling Adenydd for a ride.

 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Aefre was wearing breeches and one of Gamling’s old tunics. 

_***dammitdammit she looks better in it than I did...***_

“I am going for a ride.”

He put a restraining hand on her mare’s halter. “Are you quite certain?”

She picked up his -

_***Mine? Mine? My saddlebags? Is this what happens when you get married, what’s mine is hers? What is she-***_

-saddlebags and slung them across her saddle. “Yes, I am quite certain. I’ve not been for a ride in ages. I need to get out and get some air - don’t interrupt, even your mother said so - and Adenydd needs the exercise! Béma knows how much longer I’m going to be able to ride, as well as she!”

His grip tightened on the bridle, as Aefre checked the girth of her saddle. “You are not going anywhere without an escort, My Lady.” He had returned to the possessive use of ‘my’ and he saw her smirk and color.

“In that,” she smiled, saucily, “I am not. I suggest you saddle your horse, or I will be forced to ask Abéodan to ride with me and share my meal of roast beef and mustard and the two skins of wine.”

“Mustard?” Gamling’s eyes narrowed. “Spicy?”

“I believe so.”

Gamling didn’t hesitate. “Haleth?”

“It’s done, sir.”

Gamling looked into Dréogan’s stall, to see the stallion saddled, his bridle and bit in place. “He let you? How did you-” 

Haleth stood next to the warhorse, pointing to the apple slobbers in the shavings. “He’s pretty docile, if you continuously feed them to him,” the boy whispered with a still child-like giggle.

 

Gamling nodded the young squire off, sending him ahead to clear the road to the gate and lead his stallion into the main hallway of the stable. “Whore,” he whispered in the horse’s ear.

Dréogan nipped the Horse Lord none too harshly on the shoulder. Aefre was leading Adenydd out and despite her protestations, Gamling gave her a hand up. They carefully picked their way to the front gates, before slowly going down the hill to the plain that surrounded Edoras.

“Where to?” Adenydd was straining, excited to be out, as was Dréogan, both horses giving their riders a difficult time. Aefre was worried about Gamling, his injury still healing. By the same token, Gamling was worried about Aefre, the pregnancy, but she looked more rested than she had since he returned and wore a huge smile. “Where to?” she repeated.

“Glade is too far.”

“Not if we ride hard.”

“No.” Gamling was firm. “I can’t and I don’t want you to.”

“You old meanie.” It was muttered, not meant for him to hear, but her words carried on the wind.

His scar itched and he scratched it absent-mindedly. “I haven’t been called that since my youngest sister, Sulis, was five summers.”

Aefre leaned over her pommel, a rather tart smirk on her face. “I bet you were, too!”

Gamling shrugged and squirmed under her jocund scrutiny. “Uhm... well... yes...” He grimaced and changed the subject. “There is an outcrop of rocks with a few shady bushes over the rise. How about there?”

“That’ll be fine. I’ll race you!”

“When Mearas fly!”

Adenydd was swishing her tail, anxious to be at a dead run, fighting and pulling at her bit. A lesser horsewoman would have lost control long ago, but Aefre was Rohirrim to the bone and kept her mare on a tight rein. Truth was, Dréogan wasn’t behaving either and Gamling knew he was in for a tough ride. They ended up agreeing on a slow gallop to the outcrop a quarter of an hour away.

Food was spread out; no one would have believed the giggles and chuckles over nothing coming from the shade of the rock. Too much wine was drunk and she challenged him to a belching contest.

And won.

 _***Béma I’ve been out belched by a woman! I’ll never live it down...***_

Gamling eventually convinced himself he had gone easy on her, as who would have thought a lady could... emit such disreputable noises?

 _***How unladylike! She obviously cheated!***_

Giggles and snorts eventually eased into a comfortable silence. Even from their throne on the ground, they could easily see Rohan spread out before them, fields of wheat and grain starting to reach maturity.

“It’s not going to be enough, is it?” Aefre asked quietly. “We aren’t going to be able to harvest or send enough food for the rest of the Riddermark.”

“No.” Gamling’s swallow was painful, audible, and he struggled to say what was on his mind. “There’s ... nothing. The refugees had it better on the hill in make-shift tents than those who stayed behind.”

“What are we going to do? I-”

Gamling pulled Aefre close, pulling her into his chest. “Éomer will be here soon, he has to be. Aragorn expects his bride by mid-summer. When the King arrives with the Elves, hopefully they will know what to do.”

 _***One hopes...***_

It was quiet for a time, the two enjoying the breeze and watching the setting of the sun. They decided to exchange their pledges of faith at the glade, where they had shared that first kiss. They would need witnesses-

“Gamling! Why did you cringe when I mentioned your sisters witnessing our bonding?”

***talktalktalktalktalktalkmagpieschatterchattertalktalkta-*** 

“I can’t explain it.” The Rider squeezed her reassuringly. “You’ll see.”

Eventually, they made their way back, the sun setting at their backs. They rubbed down the horses, who still thought they had not had enough exercise, fed and watered them, making sure they had enough hay for the evening. Dinner was being served, but they weren’t hungry, except for each other. Eadignes and Helgarda had stopped arguing for the evening, but by the mutinous looks in each other’s eyes, it would start up again fresh the next morning.

Gamling noticed Fugol, Fyren’s eldest son, eyeing Eadignes with something akin to distaste. He made a mental note to mention it to Willan, so he could watch as well. Two more Riders came in from the south, filthy, exhausted and not bearing good news.

_***Éomer, you need to come home. Your people need you, desperately.***_

The days flew by quickly. If anyone thought anything of Aefre sleeping a little late, disappearing for an hour or two in the middle of the day to her and Gamling’s chambers, retiring early at night, most thought it was due to the vigorous attentions of her husband - to - be. The returning Riders were determined to replenish not only their horses and cattle, but those of the Rohirrim population as well. As predicted, many brought home Gondorian brides, but numerous men of Gondor migrated as well, wanting to see this land, these horses only the Horse Lords could breed and tame. That they were enamored and mesmerized by the women of Rohan - that was only meant to be. The Wailing of Rohan’s loss would be replaced by the Wailing of Rohan’s babies soon enough.

Gamling suffered fittings for new clothes, his wedding cloak. He was prodded, pricked, stuck, pestered, and all the growling and scowling and fierce Marshal looks got him nowhere with the seamstress, his mother and his bride - to - be.

He threatened to show up at his wedding in his underclothes and boots.

That got him smacked.

Twice.

His men thought it funny.

He worked their arses the next three days.

They thought it was worth it.

A week before the wedding, the rest of Gamling’s family arrived.

Aefre realized within minutes why he cringed at the thought of his family being anywhere within miles.

Four sisters.

Who were never quiet.

They arrived with their horses, their children, their husbands. Mayda’s husband had a pronounced limp, received, he stated proudly, at the Black Gates. He had been hit by falling boulders when the gates fell. Beornia, the elder of Gamling’s sisters, had a dark, haunted look. Her smile was forced, didn’t reach her eyes, and when Aefre reached out to embrace her, she realized the woman wore a scratched and scarred mark with a frayed cord around her neck. 

The others chattered non-stop about everything. The wedding, the food, who was she, how long has she known Gamling, what wine had she given him to coerce him into matrimony, had she threatened him, had she blackmailed him, what had he done so she could blackmail him, how long had she been married before, why had she come to Edoras, did she ride, where was her horse, had she... had she had she had she hadshe hadshehadshehadshe...

That night, Aefre sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the cold hearth.

“Overwhelming, aren’t they?” For a change, Gamling gave her a massage. He eyed one of the bottles of oil that he had brought from Gondor, before shrugging and deciding against a gentle seduction that night.

An uncharacteristic groan softly escaped her mouth.

The Hall bustled with preparations, the noise level climbing. Beornia’s eldest son, Aglaeca, was indeed, tending his first horse, and he peppered his uncle with questions. Gamling decided it was a relief to escape into the barnyard to teach the boy proper techniques, a little archery and the surrounding Riders were shocked at his patience. 

Once or twice, the couple managed to escape to the small outcrop to hide from the constant goings on. It was never for long, but it was long enough for the two to catch their breath. There was no privacy, no rest, Aefre typically falling into their bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Four days before the wedding, as everyone was settling down to supper, Eadignes came screaming into the Hall, wailing nonsense until she reached Gamling, tugging at his sleeve.

“Oh please oh please, he’ll kill him, you have to stop him, oh please-”  
 _  
***  
tbc  
***  
_


	34. 33 - Where oh where foreart thou, Eomer?

_**Rider of the Mark Chapter 33** _

_**Where oh where fore art thou, Éomer.** _

***

 

Eadignes was beyond distraught. In all his years, Gamling had never seen the former prostitute in such a state.

“Oh please, oh please, he’ll kill him, you have to stop him, oh please-”

Gamling had her gently by the wrists, Aefre at his side. “Eadignes-”

“Willan’s going to kill him-”

The girl was in hysterics, totally inconsolable. Gamling turned her wrists over gently, trying to get a better grip before realizing they were freshly scratched and bruised. Looking up, he-

“Who slapped you?”

“Where are they?” Aefre’s voice was gentle, but cut through the calamity that was rising in the hall. “What happened?”

“Outside, in the garden... I... I... I... was pulling weeds in the herb garden and he... he... he tried to... I kept telling him no, I don’t... oh ma’am...” She was now pleading with Aefre. “Willan will kill him! I don’t want Willan in trouble. You have to stop him. I don’t want-”

Gamling gently shoved the girl towards his mother and Helgarda and stalked off towards the kitchens.

“Take her to her room, get her into a bath and give her some willow bark tea. I’ll be up later.” Aefre picked up her skirts and rushed out after Gamling. 

She tore into the kitchen; the cook was putting stock on to simmer overnight. “He went that way, into the gardens,” the cook pointed, never looking up.

She ran into the garden to see a young man pinned to the wall by Willan’s hand, his feet dangling about a foot off the ground. Gamling stood nearby, with his legs spread and his arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest.

“Willan,” his voice was dangerously soft, “he can’t answer my questions, if you strangle the air from his lungs. If you could lower him just enough so he isn’t blue and can touch the ground, I would be appreciative.” Gamling leaned forward and spoke in a loud whisper. “I promise, if he did what I think he did, you get to hit him first.”

The young man paled at that. His feet were still kicking the air.

Willan lowered him, the young man’s back painfully scraping down the wall, and never relinquished the hold from his neck. Gamling’s arms remained crossed over his chest, his rather bemused smirk remaining in place. “You are Fyren’s eldest.”

“So?”

Gamling bit his lip, deep in thought. “You are past the age to earn your first Rider’s cloak, yet you have not. I see why.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Gamling nodded. “So Willan has you penned to the wall for no reason?”

The young man’s eyes darted back and forth. “I didn’t do anything!”

Gamling seemed to contemplate the young man’s words. “So you have no idea as to why Eadignes was distraught because Willan had you penned to the wall?”

Fugol was still gasping for air. “She’s just a whore.”

Gamling caught Willan’s eye and the Rider gestured, holding his thumb and forefinger together. With an understanding nod, Willan penned him a little tighter to the wall.

“Do you have any idea who slapped her?”

No answer.

Again, Gamling gestured.

And again, Willan pushed, Fugol now on the tips of his toes. He was openly gasping for breath.

“Are you going to make me repeat myself?”

The young man was insolent, glaring. Gamling went to gesture again when Fugol finally mumbled, “It was only fun. Why should she yell?”

“Why should I yell?” Eadignes had managed to chase after Aefre, leaving Gamling’s mother and sisters in her wake. “I don’t do that anymore!”

Thinking he could sway the now gathering crowd, Fugol continued. “I would have paid you! What’s a little fun on the side?”

At that, Gamling nodded, as if to agree. Much to Willan’s horror, he nodded for the servant to turn the young man loose and to step back. Fugol breathed a sigh of relief, his hand going to his throat. “Thank yo-”

_!CRACK!_

Gamling’s fist came from nowhere, connecting with Fugol’s jaw in a vicious hook. Spittle and a tooth went flying, as he sagged and slid down the wall.

“Because she doesn’t do that anymore.” Gamling shook his hand, inspecting the-

_***Owowowowowowowow***_

-bruised skin on his knuckles. “We respect the women of Rohan, of any country, youngling. Of any station, of any profession. No means no.” He looked up at Willan, still shaking his hand. “Sorry. I lied.” Gamling realized they now had quite a crowd, murmuring back and forth amongst themselves. He sidled next to the giant and whispered, “Your turn. Hit him once, but make it count. Don’t kill him.” 

Eadignes had a look akin to adoration in her eyes as she watched Willan round on the slumped Rohirrim. “Please,” she stepped around Gamling and touched Willan on the elbow. “If you hurt him too bad, I’ll have to heal him.” 

Her elbow was grabbed in return and Gamling spun her, to lead her gently back towards Aefre. “No, you won’t. He will live with his injuries this time. Tell me,” he admonished her, “was he the one you ran from?”

Eadignes bowed up, her spine, ramrod straight. “I left on my own.”

“Yes or no. We will not leave-” he gestured to the crowd, “this auspicious company until you answer the question. Was he the one?”

Eadignes turned beet red in the face before hissing. “Yes!”

“Very well.” Gamling turned back to Willan. “Hit him twice. I owe you a bottle of Wulfric’s finest.” Willan had Fugol by the collar and was slowly pulling him to his feet. “Oh, when you’re done, put him in the grain cellar beneath the barn and secure a guard.” Gamling made to leave, cutting a swath in the crowd that had gathered. The last thing Aefre saw before turning to follow him, was Willan, doubling up his fist.

“Gamling!” Aefre rushed to keep up with him. There was the sound of fist meeting jaw and the crowd cheered. “The grain is over-powerfully sweet. The smell alone will make him sick!”

There was another solid thud of fist meeting jaw and the crowd cheered again.

“That’s his problem.” Gamling was not to be deterred and he continued back into the Golden Hall. “He’ll stay there until Éomer arrives and the king will decide what more punishment he needs.” He ducked into the doorway and made his way into the dark passageway that led back to the kitchens. As he walked back into the dining area, he saw Beornia still sitting in front of her plate. He noticed that her food wasn’t touched; that she stared at it, in a daze. Her face was drawn, pallid, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept well in weeks.

“I am worried for your sister.”

Gamling nodded. “I agree.”

“Tell you what,” Aefre perused the room, before motioning for one of the serving girls to join her. “I’ll have food sent to our chambers and I’ll bring a soothing tea to Beornia’s rooms. You go talk to her and I’ll be around shortly.”

“You know what ails her.” Gamling’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

“Aye. I know what ails her. It ailed me once.” Aefre nodded. “But she has something I didn’t have.”

“Oh?”

“She has a big brother who loves her.” Aefre turned him loose and went to move off with the servant girl. “I’ll bring you something for your knuckles, as well.”

Beornia wasn’t paying attention to the bustle. Her sons were reasonably well-behaved, had pestered her brother for attention and he had showered it on them. Absent-mindedly, her hand stroked the mark hanging around her neck.

“A scoop of grain for your thoughts.”

Beornia jerked to reality, her eyes snapping nervously upwards. “Gamling, I-”

“Have you finished eating?”

Beornia looked down at her trencher, seeing it for the first time. The meat had congealed and while she needed to eat, the sight of it turned her stomach. She pushed it away and took her brother’s hand to rise. “I have no appetite these days.”

“It is understandable.” He helped her over the bench and tucked her hand in his elbow. “I’ll walk you to your chamber. We can talk.” His smile was a sad one.

She uttered not a word until they had reached the hallway, and the noise and the chatter from the Great Hall had faded. “Sometimes... I’m sorry, sometimes, I think I shouldn’t have come, but it’s not every day your brother marries.”

“I’m glad you came.” 

Beornia tried to smile, she did. “She is good to you, this Aefre? She’s not a harpy, or someone trying to marry up?” She poked him good-naturedly in the ribs, barely missing his injury. “You’re a Marshal, very proper. You were in Théoden King’s council, will be in Éomer King’s council. Is she good enough for you?”

“She is,” Gamling removed her finger from his rib cage, “too good to me, makes sure I eat my vegetables, tends to my needs before I know I have them. She is a lady and I’m very happy.” He wagged his finger. “If anyone is marrying up, it is I.”

Beornia searched his face for any subterfuge and deciding she found none, turned loose of her only brother. “Then I am glad for you.”

Despite his earlier cringing, deep down, Gamling was glad his family was there and he told her so. “I’m glad you made the journey. I’ve been remiss in my family duties. Your sons have grown into fine young men. Aglaeca reaches my shoulder already and he sits his horse very well. He should start his Rider train-”

“NO!” Beornia grabbed her brother, fear very evident on her face.

“Beorn-”

“No! Please!” Her eyes welled up. “There are no men at home to train him! Only Banning, Mayda’s husband, and he can hardly sit a horse! For Aglaeca to train, he would have to go away. I just lost my husband to Mordor, I can’t hand over my son so soon.” They arrived at her doorway and with a twist and a push of his foot, Gamling opened the door and escorted his wilting sister inside. As he softly shut the door behind him, she fell forward, searching for a protective embrace she had not sought in years. “When does it stop, Gam?” The childhood nickname fell from her lips, like water from a spring. “I don’t know how he died. I don’t know when he died. No one knows. I have no body to grieve or to sing to the arms of Béma! Just an empty mark! When does it stop hurting? Is it really over or will I sacrifice my sons to this war as well?”

At a loss for words to comfort her, Gamling’s arms tightened around her instinctively, tucking her under his chin, as sobs raked the woman’s body. Silently, he cursed his mother. She had said they had lost many. She hadn’t specified who.

_*** Caedman, I remember you well, always laughing, made her smile doting ball of mush da...***_

“One never knows when they will lose the one they love, Beornia.” Neither had heard Aefre come in and both looked over to watch her set a tray down on a small table. “As for when it stops?” Aefre shrugged, definitely understanding the other woman’s pain. “It differs. You’re never aware when it stops; it becomes dull.” She picked up the teapot and poured a cup, watching the steam rise. “I can’t count the number of nights I cried myself to sleep when I lost my first husband. I had no children to lean on, no family. If I had, I would have clung to them as moss to a stone.” Gamling turned his sister loose as Aefre handed her the cup. “Drink this. I put soothing herbs in it, so perhaps you will sleep a little better tonight?” Aefre dipped her head, self-conscious of interrupting what had been a personal moment. “I’m sorry I intruded on you.” As Beornia took the cup and settled in a chair, Aefre tapped him on the elbow. “I’ve sent food to our chambers. I should check on Eadignes and then I’ll be there, waiting for you.” As quietly as she entered, she left, the door shutting with a whisper.

“Our chambers?” Beornia was smiling slightly behind reddened eyes.

Gamling shrugged.

“Have the two of you already been caught wrapped in your cloak?”

Gamling folded his hands together, intent on his spinning thumbs. “Eh... well... for all intents and purposes... she wants the ceremony and I was inclined to oblige her.”

A rusty sound struggled to spill from Beornia’s mouth. “By Béma...” the laugh poured forth, “you love her.”

Gamling was completely done in by her sudden merriment. “I wouldn’t marry her if I didn’t.”

Beornia was holding her stomach in laughter. “My brother, the stoic, hard-nosed Rider, who broke every female heart on our stead-”

“I wasn’t-”

“Who swore never to fall in love-”

“I never said-”

“Who very emphatically stated to every female in the vicinity that *he* was a soldier-”

“Well, I-”

“Was going to be an archer, a high-ranked Horse Lord-”

“Really, Beornia, this isn’t-”

“The finest Rider who ever lived wouldn’t have *time* for love or a family-”

Gamling was now standing staunchly, with his arms crossed on his chest. “Are you through?”

Beornia squealed once (a rather frightful, high-pitched sound that made Gamling wince) and clapped her hands together. “I hope she stands up to you on occasion and makes you sleep in the barn when you’re an arse!”

In one move, he went to one knee, his elbow propped on her thigh, his finger wagging, “She out-belches me, could probably keep up with me drink for drink. When I came home from Gondor, injured, she fought with me over the chamber-pot and left me trapped in her room without clothes for days. She sparred with Éowyn and taught her how to dodge a morningstar. She tried to follow me to Gondor, and would have, but her mare was in season and Dréogan was determined to service her. She keeps me on my toes, makes me think, and doesn’t interfere with my duties, sees to my needs. She hollers at me, calls me an oaf,” Beornia was now giggling, “a dullard, a brute, and a cretin!” She was now laughing out loud. “And before you say it, I am not tied up in her reins!”

It took a moment for the woman to catch her breath, she was laughing so hard. “Ah, Gam,” she grasped him on both sides of the head, her fingers buried in his hair, “she’s good for you! When is the baby due?”

Gamling’s jaw dropped, stunned. “Who told?”

She squealed again. “No one! I guessed. She has the look.” Her mood swung again, delving deeply. “She had a look, I guessed.” With a sigh, she reached over and picked up the tea, drinking in small sips. “You are very lucky, oh brother of mine, to have found someone this late in life.” She waved him off, dismissing him, as she had done so often when they were younger. Clearly, she felt she had unloaded and burdened him enough.

“Beornia, no one else knows, besides Mother and the midwife.”

Now, she looked up, a calculating gleam in her eyes. “Why keep it secret?”

Gamling shrugged. “We haven’t discussed announcing it yet. She... we’re not ready.”

“Too much going on?” 

Gamling nodded reluctantly in agreement. “The baby was conceived at Dunharrow.”

Beornia nodded sagely. “She’s one of the Blessed. That will cause commotion.” She nodded as if she had come to a decision. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

By now, he was by the door, his hand on the handle. “Yes, but at what cost? As I recall, you never kept secrets for free.” With that, he removed himself from the room, the click of his boots a fading reminder that men ruled the Halls of Edoras.

Beornia continued to sip her tea, her eyes deep in thought.

“You are correct, big brother. I always made you pay to keep a secret. But this one, I just might give you anyway.”

***

The days continued to fly. They pinned and fitted Gamling again, sticking and pricking, until his low growl became a loud roar. Many times, he would attempt to enter his and Aefre’s chambers, only to either find the door barred to him, with cackling women on the other side, or if he managed to get in, he was run out, glimpses of Aefre swathed from head to toe in the blue silk he had gifted her from Gondor. 

“Dammit, Aefre! I’m going riding with those miscreants I call nephews! I need my gloves!”

There would be murmuring and the sounds of things being moved around, before the door would open a hair and his gloves shoved between the crack.

“Not those! The other ones! My riding gloves!”

The door was wrenched open, his mother blocking the way. “Take what you have, you whining arse! They will do!” And she slammed the door in his face.

_***Women! Dammit!***_

They listened to him stomp angrily down the hallway, before breaking out into incessant giggles.

The day before the planned nuptials dawned bright and warm. There were no clouds and the final preparations were under way. All of his sisters, his mother, and Aefre, herself, had told him he would have to find somewhere else to sleep that night. Despite their open cohabitating, things, rituals, were to be done that night and the next morning and it just would not do for them to spend the night together.

He gathered that he was supposed to go to the Blue Whale with _‘friends,’_ get totally shite-faced and pass out somewhere until someone threw water on him on the morrow.

He gathered that was what was expected of him when Aefre went into labor that winter as well.

He and Aefre were enjoying the last moments of lunch, when the northwest tower bell began to clang.

“Oh Béma, not more bad news.” Aefre whispered as Gamling pulled himself from the bench and headed to the tower. For a change, she followed him, his sister’s younger children following along behind them like a row of red-headed ducklings.

“Where?” Gamling was already searching the horizon for the dust that signaled a Rider, only to see a legion of outriders. He started to call down to bar the gate, send the children in, when he snatched the seeing glass from the young Rider on watch. He put the tube up to his eye, staring into the distance.

The Swan Guard of Dol Amroth.

As he canvassed the party, he could clearly see the green of Rohan’s Riders side by side with the garish turquoise of the Swan Guard. He could make out Éomer, along with a group of Gondor’s Rangers. Somewhere in the mix, he knew Éowyn and Faramir would be riding, probably side by side, if they hadn’t gotten tired of each other. As the party rose over the hill, he could see bright banners, beings in rich robes and sumptuous gowns on extravagantly decked out palfreys and geldings. 

Shaking his head in disgust, he handed the seeing glass to Aefre before turning and storming down the stairs, calling out to the gates to have them thrown open, to clear the path through the city proper. Aefre placed the seeing glass to her eye, did a double take, before telling the children to take a turn, quietly, please and not to fuss, and following behind, to inform the Hall their King had arrived.

She could hear Gamling muttering angrily under his breath.

“Dammit! Dammit! Who invited the ruddy Elves to my wedding?”  
 __  
***  
tbc  
***  



	35. 34 - Uhm... sire... about tomorrow

_**Rider of the Mark**_

**_34_**

_**Uhm... sire... about tomorrow...**_

***

“Gamling! Attend me!”

If the Marshal was taken aback by the commanding tone so like Théoden’s, he made no physical notice of it, simply fell into his accustomed spot at the King’s left shoulder.

Éomer had ridden into Edoras, met and escorted by a hastily gathered éored. Gamling traveled at the head of the line, bearing the king’s standard, and waited patiently in the dust. Introductions to warriors he remembered and Elves he had only heard of and thought were legend were passed around before the party entered the gates of Meduseld. 

The reception the Rivendell wedding party received was much more joyful and animated than given to the four members of the Fellowship not four months before. Planters and pathways around neatly thatched dwellings were in bloom and the people, rather than being down-trodden and sullen, were out and about, calling praises to the King. Smiles and greetings were passed freely. They were openly curious about the Elves, regal in their bearing, who looked back at the people of the Riddermark under hooded eyes and with faint smiles.

They were very interested in the handsome young Ranger from Gondor who rode so closely to the Lady Éowyn. 

The Hall was bustling, food being brought out and laid on the tables. Squires and young Riders in training were waiting to take the horses of those who would allow their horses to be handled by strangers. It was not lost on Gamling that every Rohirrim in the party took his mount to the stables, including Éomer. Firefoot was as cantankerous as Dréogan and would tolerate few tending to him besides his master. Gamling had quite a time with him when he had removed his king’s warhorse from Pelennor Fields.

Aefre was in her element, directing serving women and younger children hither and yon. With the aid of Aelwydd and Beornia, they found rooms for each and every guest; many of the guard were billeted in the barracks. If she was awed by the Lord of Rivendell or the Lady of Light and her husband, she didn’t flinch. With the speed of a seasoned and more than capable chatelaine, she had baths drawn and servants assigned to rooms, to individuals. Among the guests, a diminutive young woman stood, regal in her bearing, but bent over, trying to converse with Gamling’s youngest niece. Her long dark hair cascaded loosely over her shoulder, the little girl enamored with it.

The Gondorian noblewoman did not speak Rohirrim.

But then again, neither could the child. She was just two summers and spoke mostly gibberish.

Aefre decided they were on equal footing. She was coming around a corner, directing Beornia in an opposing direction, when she heard the order plainly.

“Gamling! Attend me!”

She met her future husband and King in the hall, both heading towards the King’s study. Gamling had assumed his customary spot already and the two were striding down the corridor. Éomer’s face was set in a scowl Aefre was not comfortable with.

“Sire. Welcome home.”

Éomer nodded curtly, not really seeing her. As Gamling passed, she whispered, “Tea or ale?”

“Ale. Wine, if we have any.” Éomer’s voice had a sharp tone to it and behind his back, Gamling winced.

“He is not happy.” Aefre concurred quietly. “I will be quick.”

“No, I am not happy and yes, be quick!” Éomer’s voice boomed as he went around the corner. “Gamling!”

“Sire?” 

Éomer jumped as he turned to find his Marshal standing at his shoulder, obviously unaware and shocked that the man was still at his shoulder. With a nod, he bade the older Horse Lord shut the door, although it would do little to stifle the upcoming outburst.

“You had a nice time with the Elves?” Gamling was blithe.

Éomer turned red.

“How was Rivendell?” The delivery was smooth.

Éomer was growling.

“Are Faramir and Éowyn still starry-eyed, my lord?” There was a faint hint of a smile hidden in the beard of the Horse Lord.

The howl was deafening. Éomer lifted his hand, making to sweep the colored stones and marks from the map on the table in front of him. Before he could swing, a strong grip grasped him by the wrist. “Do not do that, my lord. Those stones tell me much.” Gamling swung Éomer’s fist away. “What offends thee, my lord?”

“What offends me?” It was a hiss and any other Rider would have stepped back. “What offends me?” Éomer was standing tall and slowly coming around the table, as if to corral Gamling to a corner. “We have guests traveling through the Riddermark; Elves, royalty of Belfalas, high - ranking officers of Gondor.” His fists were clenched in white-knuckled fury. “Our land, Gamling. My people! And what do we see?” He flung his hand outward to indicate the landscape outside the window. “Razed land. Burned and abandoned farms. Poorly dressed people trying to eke crops from malnourished soil. Tell me,” he ran his fingers through his wind-blown hair, pulling it tightly away from his face, “what I saw is a-”

“It is not.” Gamling had not moved an inch, had not given up any ground. Blue eyes the color of the sky stared a hole in the King. “What you saw was only the tip of the haystack.” With an angry nod, he went around Éomer and stood by the map. Picking up marks and stones, he ranted off the litany. “Burned crops, few trees, no trees, no suitable shelter.” The door opened and Aefre entered, carrying a pitcher by the neck and two heavy tankards. Without thinking twice, Gamling took the pitcher from her, the aroma of strong Rohirrim ale wafting from the top. Setting the tankard down, Aefre took the pitcher back, pouring from the side, a fine head rising in the tankard.

Éomer took it from her without thanking her, hardly noticing she had given it to him. “What provisions do we have? They need food, clothing, shelter.” Aefre sighed and Éomer looked up to see Gamling and the noblewoman exchange tired glances. “What?” he snapped.

Aefre was exhausted. The pregnancy was wearing on her, the sudden influx of Gamling’s family, the constant bickering of Eadignes and Helgarda, the running of the hall, the wedding preparations and now the sudden arrival of the Rivendell wedding party. She was tired, everything was coming to a head and for an instant, she wished she had allowed Aelwydd to announce she had caught them in Gamling’s cloak. Her bottom lip began to tremble.

“Do not bark at me!”

“Excuse me?”

“I said don’t bark at... mmmme!”

Éomer looked at Gamling in shock. “What did I do?”

Gamling shook his head sorrowfully, clearly not wishing to ire either ruler or woman.

_***ooooooooh you’ve done it now...***_

“I did what? What did I do?”

“You Barked At Me!” Aefre was just getting wound up. “You asked a question and before Gamling or I could answer, you barked at me!”

Éomer’s eyes darted back and forth between the enraged noblewoman and his silent Marshal. Fury that had been slowly building since entering the Mark, dispelled with a sudden ferocity that was unnerving.

“Woof?”

Aefre inhaled sharply, her eyes glinting in the shadows of the room. The growl that hissed from her throat was not one meant for a king and Éomer was relieved that she said nothing when she turned her back and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Éomer exhaled and ran his fingers through his long blond locks. “I suppose if you tell me what I did, I’ll apologize to her later?”

Gamling was scowling, not that that was unusual for the taciturn officer. “You barked at her. Now, I’ll spend all night having to-” he stopped himself, remembering that he was expected to find other sleeping arrangements this evening. With the Golden Hall now filled with Elven and royal guests, he suspected if he did not pass out drunk at the Blue Whale, he would be spending the eve of his wedding before the great fireplace or with his horse. He looked up to see his king grinning sardonically at him. 

“Still making her scream at night?”

Gamling’s scowl deepened. Returning to the map at hand, he proceeded to point out the damage and shortages his people faced.

“What provisions have been made so far?” Anger dispelled and joking laid aside, the young king was all seriousness, taking in the full effect of the tenuous position of his subjects.

“The East has given its stores for the Westenmet. Cattle, sheep, barnstock, grain harvested from last year that is still useable.”

“Fish?”

Gamling shook his head. “The Angren is wasted, spoiled for at least one, possibly two years. It has become a sewer for Isengard. The Snowbourne and Entwash yield little and the farmers of the East do not catch much in the Anduin as they are not fishermen.”

“How long will the additional provisions last?”

Gamling was scowling, shaking his head, as his hand swept over the map. “A few months. Villagers that are left are scavenging from abandoned and destroyed farms and dwellings. The winter will be-”

“Deadly.”

“Aye.”

It was silent for a few moments as Éomer perused the map, taking in the stones, the markers. “How long will it take for you to provide me with a list of what will be needed to feed and house our people over the winter and into the next harvest?”

“Now.”

The young king raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“I have not been idle.”

A slow smile spread on Éomer’s face. “No. You wouldn’t be.”

Gamling’s finger went from stone to stone, listing what each stone meant and what was needed. Timber, cattle, grain, wool...

_Men._

_Riders to protect and to guard._

Éomer was nodding all the while.

“You have a plan, sire?”

Before Éomer could answer, the door opened and Aelwydd entered, another pitcher of cool ale in her hands. “Sire.” Her greeting was clipped. “I know my son and I suspected you would need another pint each by now.”

“You suspected correctly, my lady. I thank you.” He waited for her to put the pitcher down. “I would ask you a favor?”

The white haired woman inclined her head. “Sire?”

Éomer grimaced. “Several favors, it seems. First, stop calling me ‘sire.’” He waved Gamling’s protest off. “Any woman who could birth and put up with such an arrogant and difficult Rider as my Marshal is a pillar of the Riddermark. You have my gratitude and awe. I only hope to find a wife who is half the woman you are.”

Gamling was sputtering into his goblet and his mother smirked. “If I were twenty years younger, I would show you what a true Woman of the Riddermark was!”

Gamling was now hacking. “Mother! That was-”

Éomer was laughing and he pounded his Marshal on the back. “I bet you could! Second, would you send Prince Imrahil, Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, Lord Elrond of Rivendell and Lord Celeborn of Lorien to these chambers? I need to speak with them.”

“As you wish.”

“Third, please send Lady Aefre to these rooms. I took my temper out on her and I wish to apologize.”

Aelwydd grinned sardonically. “That might be a while. She was... very upset.”

Éomer’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Gamling. “My apologies, old man, but I thought your lady was made of sterner stuff.”

“My lady has carried a heavy burden since I returned her to Dunharrow.”

Gamling’s tone was quiet, yet the rebuke was there, gently placed. Éomer’s breath caught.

“Yes, I suppose she has. And with your return, it has not eased?”

“No.”

Éomer chewed on his bottom lip, a habit reminiscent of his sister. “Please tell her that I wish to apologize and to come as soon as she is able.” Aelwydd dipped in deference before leaving the room. Éomer waited until the door shut firmly behind her before addressing his Marshal. He laid his hand on the map, the palm pressed against the area showing the Wold.

“An entire garrison did not answer Théoden’s summons, Gamling.”

“I know.”

Éomer’s finger stabbed an area to the northeast. “This garrison. No one answered.”

“I know.”

Éomer’s mouth was in a grim, tight line. “Do you know who commands this garrison?”

_***Ah.***_

Gamling’s smile was humorless. “Originally, that stronghold was held by Lufian of the Wold.”

It took a moment for the name to register. “Aefre’s husband.”

“Aye.”

Éomer tapped his finger in a steady beat on the map, as if to push the imaginary fortress into the wood of the table. “His... cousin holds it now?”

“No. Gifre was no relation to Lufian.” Éomer’s eyes slowly drifted upwards to his Marshal, his eyebrows lifted in question. “It was stolen, stolen land, a stolen garrison, a stolen Éored. She was lied to, frightened, and ran. It does not belong to the man who holds it.” Gamling’s voice had dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. “And he did not answer Théoden’s call to arms.”

“You know what you are accusing him of.”

“Aye.”

“Treason. Theft.” It was a hissed whisper and Éomer was livid. “One who is guilty of such ill deeds does not live under the rules of the Riddermark.”

“Aye.”

Éomer’s gaze returned to the map. “Where did you get your information?”

In short, clipped sentences, Gamling told his King of his meeting with Ceneden, Lufian’s first in command. Éomer listened to the story, taking in every word. By the time he had finished, Éomer had sunk into the chair at the head of the table, his hands folded on the table.

“I will need to speak to this Captain. Do you know where I can find him?”

There was a moment of silence.

“His ashes are scattered on the plains of Pelennor. He was crushed by a Mumakil and I have his identifying mark on the board over my fireplace.”

Éomer scowled and grimaced. “Damn. Will anyone else attest to his story?”

Gamling was now leaning over the map, his finger sweeping the Wold. “As I recall, her sister-in-law knew of it and pushed Aefre to return and ... cater to him. Somewhere within a hard day’s ride is the home built for her grandmother, but I don’t know where it is. Several retainers loyal to Lufian resided there, but I have no idea if they are still there.”

Éomer was now drumming his fingers. “You know of no one else to back this Captain’s story?”

“No.”

“Damn!” The king thumped the table once. “We need-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the door opened, Faramir holding it for Aelwydd and Beornia. The two women carried several carafes of wine and goblets for all, Beornia blushing under the attention of the tall, stately Elves. For the first time, Gamling studied the equals to his King.

Prince Imrahil was tall and slender. His silver streaked hair was clipped short and his beard was neatly trimmed. His clothing carried no dust and Gamling wondered if he carried a locket of incense as he did not smell as if he had been riding for days.

Faramir, on the other hand, looked windblown and ruddy. His locks were tousled and it was obvious he had been in the saddle for a long time. He decided that Éowyn was attracted to his scruffy beard.

The Elves were a puzzle. Lord Elrond was tall and slender, but his face was creased with care worn lines. Grey eyes missed little and his fingers never ceased their movement. Celeborn had a more ageless look, noble in bearing. It was difficult to comprehend these two beings were thousands of years old.

“Gentlemen, I have a problem.” Éomer slowly stood, his hand sweeping over the map of Rohan. “No, that is not right. Rohan has a problem.” He swallowed tightly. Éomer was a proud man; he hated to ask for anything, but right now, he was laying his pride aside. His people came first. “According to my Marshal, whose opinion and word I trust as my own, what destruction we have seen is a mere drop in the bucket.” He picked up a stone from the map and squeezed it until Gamling knew it had made an indentation in the palm of the king’s hand. He placed it back from where he had picked it up and swept his hand over the Westenmet, gesturing as he went. “The Westfold is razed, the soil scorched. It will yield little to nothing this season. The fields are burned, cattle slaughtered. There is no timber to rebuild. The River Angren,” here his finger traced the outline of the northernmost river, “is wasted, according to Gamling, for one to two years, thanks in part to the armies and destruction of Isengard. The Snowbourne and Entwash do not produce palatable fish and the Anduin cannot feed an entire country.” His hand swept the East. “They are farmers, not fishermen.”

“What,” Imrahil was leaning over the map, carefully taking in every line, every marker placed so carefully across the Riddermark, “do you need, Éomer?” The young king sighed deeply, obviously at odds and hating that he was so close to begging. “Éomer, tell us exactly what your people need and do not attempt to downplay the seriousness of your situation.”

Slowly, Éomer began to rattle off needed supplies; food, sheep, cattle, other barnyard animals, grain, hay, timber, food. When he slowed, Gamling filled in, certainly not taking over, but thorough, well-informed. Faramir once brought up horses and was met with such equal Rohirric glares, he took two steps back, head dipping in supplication, feeling the need to apologize when no insult was intended. From nowhere, a long, elegant finger appeared, tracing upwards into the Elven realms of Lorien and Mirkwood.

“I believe we have timber to spare.” Celeborn’s voice was sonorous, a rich timbre, pleasing to the ear. His finger tapped the lower borders of the Great Wood. “Thranduil has-” He was interrupted by a litany of what appeared to be Elvish swearing, Elrond clearly making a point. “Thranduil,” Celeborn interrupted Elrond’s tirade, “can afford to be generous. If he does not wish to be, I will remind him of such.” This brought on a humorous snort from the dark-haired Elf. Celeborn did not take notice of this and continued on, his finger now waving in the air as if to announce its direction. “The Nimrodel River runs through Lorien and the salmon has been plentiful this past year. Éomer King,” he fixed the Rohirrim Lord with a gaze that had caused many a woman to melt, “have you had Lorien salmon, grilled over an open fire-”

“With lemon.” Elrond cut in, his thumb circling the pads of his fingers. “If you cut the lemon in wedges and squeeze the juices over the salmon while it is cooking-”

“Or,” Imrahil cut in, “one may pan fry it, with butter, with a touch of sage-”

Gamling’s stomach growled.

He blushed and seriously studied the tips of his boots. “Sorry.”

The Marshal was waved off with a smile. “Do not be.” Imrahil was now waving over the map. “If you must know, it makes me hungry, as well. Lorien salmon is spectacular, but have you had catfish from the Ringló?”

“Don’t forget the trout!” Faramir bounced back from the imagined slight of the horses. “Trout from the Erui!”

“I have heard such rumors.” Imrahil was staring at the young Steward with mock severity. “I have yet to sample such a well-touted delicacy!” He turned his attention back to the young king of Rohan. “Regardless, between all of this, the shellfish found in the bays and the ocean waters off the coast, as well as the promise of a strong and plentiful harvest in Belfalas and Anfalas, and any extra cattle and barnyard animals we can find, I do not believe your people will lack for food or shelter.”

Éomer was obviously overwhelmed by the generosity of the lords before him. “We will repay your kindness. It might take some years-”

“You’ll repay nothing!” Faramir was quite adamant. “I realize I speak only for Gondor; however I feel the others will agree. Your people answered a summons none would have condemned you for had you not! If anything, I would consider aid rendered as repayment for your service in keeping the free peoples of Middle Earth free!” There were murmurs of agreement. 

Éomer looked from ruler to ruler, studying each for any hint of subterfuge, any glance of uncertainty. Before he could agree and thank them, the door flew open, Éowyn and Aefre entering with trays of meat and cheese, more wine.

“Ah, Lady Aefre. I wish to have a word with you, please.” Éomer motioned to Gamling, who took her tray from her and began to pour wine into the goblets. 

Aefre had her back to the men, busy clearing the sideboard to make room for the tray of meats and cheeses that Éowyn carried. “You are busy, sire. Surely this will wait.” Aefre was calm and if she still harbored ill thoughts, it was unnoticed by all except her future husband. Gamling was well aware of her slightly red-rimmed eyes.

“I am not too busy to apologize.” He stood up and came around the table. Taking her hands into his, he bowed his head and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Woofwoofwoof bark bark woof. Woof. Woof. Barkbarkbark woofwoof.”

Gamling snorted basely, his chuckles clearly untamable. Elrond leaned over to Celeborn.

“Very plain spoken, these Rohirrim.”

Aefre narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Thank you, sire. I will take your thoughts to heart. If there is anything else?” She turned to leave, only to be stopped by a gentle restraint as her hands were still encased by his.

“Lady Aefre, I spoke harshly and took my ire out on you. I understand that you have shouldered responsibilities that were not yours and rather than commend you and thank you, I... barked at you. Please accept my apologies.” Éomer’s tone was sincere and had her heart not lain elsewhere, Aefre would have been mesmerized by the velvety timbre. As if to solidify his position, he turned her hand over to expose the pale wrist, and placed a gentle kiss upon it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gamling’s eyes narrow, his scowl deepening and with a well-placed sigh, decided he had pushed his faithful Marshal to his breaking point. Releasing her hand with a sigh, he looked up, mirth in his eyes. “I wish to ask you for a request.”

“Sire?”

Éomer had turned his back on her, was looking at his sister with a definite gleam in his eye. “You have earned a respite. I wish for you to journey with us to Minas Tirith for the royal wedding.”

Aefre looked at Gamling, before shifting her gaze to Lord Elrond and to the occupants in the room in general. “Sire, I do not believe that I-”

“You are invited.” Elrond dipped his head, a gracious, elegant nod, to be sure.

Aefre licked her lips - an unusual, nervous gesture. “Sire, there is much to be done here-”

“Which was my job and I am grateful for your aid.” Éowyn smiled and grabbed the older noblewoman by the same hand her brother had just kissed. “I will stay. I tire of travel and,” with this she looked at Faramir, shyly, “I have things to think over. The busyness of Edoras will help me put things in perspective. You go to Minas Tirith. You and Gamling.”

“Uh... no.” Gamling shook his head. “I have done all the traveling I wish to do.”

“I won’t go without you!” Aefre’s brows were knit together in a manner similar to Gamling’s. 

“I’m not going! Edoras needs a sitting Marshal-”

“Yes, you are going.” Éomer was jovial, enjoying the power he now held over his Marshal. “I’d stay, but I must escort Théoden’s body back home, therefore, I will send a runner to Elfhelm - his wife can run the Eastemnet without much aid.” Both women and Marshal nodded enthusiastically. The eastern Marshal’s wife’s reputation was notorious, her skills and temper an equal match to her more affable husband. “And Elfhelm can aid Éowyn with the running of Edoras for a few weeks.” He smiled benignly. “Any questions?”

Gamling was rubbing his eyes and Aefre sighed in resignation. “When do we leave? We will need to pack.”

Éomer pounded the older Horse Lord on the back. “See? That was easy!” He nodded with a grin to Aefre. “We leave in the morning.”

He did not miss the exchange of worried glances between Gamling and Aefre. “Tomorrow morning?”

“Yyyyeeesss....”

Aefre squared her shoulders, her chest rising. “I am sorry, sire. I have other... plans tomorrow-”

“Change them.”

“No.” It was said at the same time by both Marshal and Lady. Gamling could see Éomer turning red in the face and in attempt to stave off the coming explosion of temper, he spoke up quickly. “We could catch up with the bridal party the day after -”

“No!” Aefre was totally unrepentant and not aware of the King’s impending outburst, having beat him to the gate. “I refuse to charge all over the countryside and you-” she shot an accusatory finger at Gamling, “are in no condition to be rampaging about Rohan!”

Éomer made a perfect _‘o’_ with his mouth and grinned. Leaning over the sideboard, he snatched up several cubes of cheese and moved towards the backside of the desk, “You might want to take a seat,” he whispered to Imrahil, as he walked by. “Once they get started, it’s an amusing explosion that never seems to end!” He thumbed over his shoulder and addressed Faramir. “It’s the strangest courtship I’ve ever witnessed. You might want to take notes.” As he settled down and propped his feet on the top, he raised his voice above the rising din. “And pray tell, why is Gamling in no condition to ride the Riddermark?”

Before Gamling could shush her, Aefre spat, “Because your Marshal was attacked by Orcs over the rise and rode into Edoras damn near dead!”

“Oh,” Celeborn whispered. “Very plain-spoken.” No one paid heed to the two imposing Elf Lords taking steps back into the shadows.

Éomer planted both feet on the floor with a very audible ‘thud’. “He did what?” He fixed Gamling with a mithril gaze. “What happened?”

Gamling was not paying attention to his King, rather his entire being was focused on the woman in front of him, who he had every intention of marrying the next day - if he didn’t gag her first. Although his words were to his king, his gaze and his fury was focused on the rather incorrigible woman in front of him. “Nothing.”

_***Don’t you dare don’tyoudareyoubetternot iwillthrottleyou so...***_

“Nothing? You lying TROLL!”

Imrahil’s jaw had dropped. Éomer tapped him on the elbow to get his attention. “Don’t be alarmed,” he whispered. “Pet names, sure sign of true love!”

Aefre hadn’t taken a breath. “Nothing?” She rounded on the king, her fists planted firmly on his desk. “He and his Éored encountered a renegade Orc party just over the rise and he passed out when he entered the gates!”

“Gamling? Passed out?” Éomer was wagging his finger. “Before or after he got off his horse?”

“Aaaaffffreeeee...”

_***Don’t tell them I-***_

“He fell from his horse!”

_***Dammitdammitdammitdammitdammi-***_

She turned sideways, showing the placement with her own hand. “He was sliced from hip to underarm and he had to be sewn!”

“Aefffffreeeee...” It was growled.

Aefre didn’t move from her spot in front of the King, but she turned to Gamling, shaking her finger at him. “He had to be sewn! He was unconscious for three days and was the most dreadful patient! Never in my life have I dealt with such a hard-headed, insufferable-”

“How bad a patient was he?” Éomer was definitely enjoying Gamling’s comeuppance. 

_***Do NOT tell them about the chamber pot...***_

Aefre contemplated the request for a moment, giving Gamling plenty to worry about. “He was despicable, loathsome!” She glared at her husband - to - be. “He was a man!”

“Awful patient,” Éomer solemnly agreed. 

“Only recently has he begun to regain his strength! So, no! We will not be riding pell-mell across the Riddermark the day after tomorrow!”

Éomer reached for his wine goblet and took a sip. “Then it is imperative that you leave with us on the morrow.”

“NO!”

“No?”

Aefre’s fists were clenched and her knuckles were white. For that matter, so was Gamling’s. “We have,” she enunciated very slowly, “something planned for tomorrow.”

“Change it.” Éomer was not joking.

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because,” it was gritted between teeth, “I am marrying this wretched beast in the morning!”

“Very strange courtship, indeed.” Faramir’s eyebrows had risen off his forehead and he now stepped back, joining the Elf Lords in the shadows. “I think I’ll come stand with you.”

“Oh, Blessed Béma!” Éowyn gasped. She set her wine goblet down with a solid thunk. “We are eating your wedding feast.”

The look on Gamling’s face clearly showed he could care less.

A slow smile was spreading on Éomer’s face. “Well, you are correct! This is a joyous occasion and it cannot be changed. Lord Elrond,” he addressed the Elf Lord in the back corner, “I hate to ask but-”

“A day will not hurt. Your Marshal and his Lady deserve that.”

“Good!” Éomer had returned to the jovial and indulgent man that most knew him as. “Who was going to officiate?”

_***grrrrrrrrrrrr***_

“We planned something simple, Éomer.” Aefre cut into Gamling’s suddenly disparaging thoughts. “Just the two of us and family to witness our vows.”

“Well, you can forget that!”

_***noooooooooo...***_

“Gamling! You must have a marriage ceremony befitting your station.”

“Something small and quiet is very befitting-”

“Befitting who? You? I don’t think so!” Éomer slammed his goblet down with a resounding thud. “It’s settled! I’ll officiate!”

Gamling groaned and Aefre was obviously nervous. “Sire, you don’t have to-”

“You don’t even know what to say, you over-grown youngling!” Trust Éowyn to cut to the crux of the matter.

“I’ll think of something!” he snapped. He quickly returned his over-exuberant grin on his Marshal. “I love weddings! Drinks all around!” He stood up and motioned to Aefre. “You have... bride-y type things to attend to, right?”

“Well... really... sire...”

“Good!” He waved her off in the direction of his sister. “Go... do...”

“Yes, yes, bride-y things.” Éowyn was rolling her eyes. The King of Rohan, acting like an over-grown colt.

“Tell you what!” He continued to gesture wildly. “Take Lothiriel... it’s Lothiriel, right? ... yes... take Lothiriel and Arwen with you! We’ll make sure the groom doesn’t go for a long ride that he won’t return from.” He gave Gamling the thumbs up. “You are so going to be married.”

_***Great. Wonderful. May I die now?***_

Aefre started to leave and then thought better. She moved across the room and kissed her future husband, reveling in the fast embrace. “I have had your things for tomorrow moved into my old chambers. I’d rather you sleep there than at the Blue Whale tonight.”

“You will never have to worry about that,” he whispered back. He kissed her one last time before reluctantly turning her loose. He watched her leave, not taking his eyes from the door even after it shut.

“What?” Éomer called after her. “No kiss for me? I’m the King!”

_***This is not going as planned.***_

Éomer was rubbing his hands together. “Oh, what to do with you first...”

***  
tbc  
***


	36. 35 - a Man of Constant Sorrow

****

Rider of the Mark 

****

Chapter 35 

****

A Man of Constant Sorrow 

***

_***What is he going to do with me? Béma’s great hairy ba-***_

Éomer tilted his head sideways, a boyish, mischievous grin on his face. The Elves and Imrahil, realizing a night of Rohirrim-style debauchery was about to begin, quietly excused themselves, leaving Faramir to watch the goings - on with vast amusement.

“I think a trip to the Blue Whale is in order.”

“Sire,” Gamling shook his head reluctantly. “No.”

Éomer scowled hard. “No?” He leaned over and whispered loudly to Faramir. “Gamling has gotten old. Rumor has it when he was born, his face was scrunched so, he looked like a little old man and his father named him such.”

Gamling crossed his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. He wasn’t insulted by the proclamation; indeed, Éomer had accused him of it since his arrival in Edoras - a sullen, grieving young lad. 

***

_Théodred had allowed the boy to sulk; however, when Éomer was discourteous to Gamling, the king’s son had allowed the young Captain to discipline him. Éomer found himself picked up by the scruff of the neck, tossed in a water trough and set to mucking stalls for a month. To make matters worse, Gamling had drolly informed him - while sitting on a stall door, eating an apple, that his uncle, the King, had assigned his nephew to his command, to oversee his training._

_Éomer’s training began with watching the Horse Master train his younger sister in battle arts._

_It had been a humbling comeuppance._

_Éomer had responded in a rather ungentlemanly manner, making disparaging remarks about Gamling’s rather questionable parentage._

_He was immediately sent packing to Gamling’s parents for a season._

_Gamling called it ‘fostering.’_

_Éomer called it torture._

_The boy had returned still sullen, but not so willing to speak out. However, after a brutal day of training, the king’s nephew blurted that the reason why Gamling’s father had named him ‘the Old’, was obviously because of the way he looked when he was born._

_Gamling, who was only in his early 30's at the time, cocked his head sideways, regarding the youngling who would eventually become king._

_“Is my mother still telling that story?” He dropped from the fence and strode towards the barn. “Thirty more lunges on your horse, without falling off. If you fall off, start counting again. They-” he pointed to the other younglings training, “will tell me if you skive off. Do not forget to care for your horse and feed mine as well when you are finished.” He then ducked through the planking in the ring and strode off towards the Hall, no doubt looking for food, a bath and more likely, some feminine company._

_He did not see the slow smile spreading on the features of Éomund’s son._

_But he knew that it was there._

***

“I still think a trip to the Blue Whale is in order.” Éomer watched Gamling open the door to the hallway. “Send your brooding bachelorhood off with a bang!”

“My Lord, my bachelorhood was not brooding.” He motioned with an inclined head. “We have a problem that must be dealt with, however.”

Éomer grabbed a slice of ham, stuffing it in his mouth, and refilled his goblet, before following. “A problem? This sounds like a job for the King!” He stepped into the hallway behind his Marshal and pointed with his empty hand. “Where is this problem?” He turned back towards the room. “Faramir? Come with us!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Faramir was busy refilling his goblet and stuffing several wedges of cheese in one cheek. He picked up several slices of roast mutton and followed the two Rohirrim from the room. The Gondorian knew in the span of the next few hours he would learn more about the Rohirrim than all the time he had spent with Eowyn and her brother these last few months. 

The trio strode into the Great Hall, honored guests milling about. For a moment, Gamling saw Aefre, the center of attention with a gaggle of females; Éowyn, Beornia, Sulis, and he supposed Arwen and Imrahil’s daughter-

_***What IS her name again... Lothiree...Lottiray... Lollyloo...***_

Arms and fingers pointing in differing directions. For a brief moment, Aefre looked up, seeing him, smiling...

_***wrapyouinmycloakandneverletyougo***_

For an even briefer second, the Marshal saw the Princess look up and for the blink of an eye, hers met Éomer’s.

Éomer ducked and headed towards the door.

But not before Gamling had seen it.

“Faramir?”

Éowyn’s lover was standing a few steps behind, slowly turning in a circle, taking in the beauty of Meduseld. Aefre and all the women had worked hard during the war, restoring the Hall to its former glory. Brass work shone, the tapestries were cleaned, repaired, their colors no longer faded by smoke and low light. Realizing the two Horse Lords were waiting for him, he blushed, and hurried out the door. “Éowyn told me of the beauty of your Hall. Words do not do it justice.” Stepping into the afternoon light, he looked anew at the city built on the hill. Squinting into the sunlight, he continued. “You have much to be proud of, Éomer of the Riddermark.”

A bittersweet look crossed the features of the young king. “Aye. I do and I am.” He started down the stairs. “I do not deserve one grain of its soil.”

_***Deep run the wounds of your cousin’s death...***_

“So, Gamling,” Éomer’s tone was jerked back to a more light-hearted timbre. “What is this problem that is so dire to be dealt with on the eve of - -”

“Damn you, woman! Have I not earned a moment’s rest?”

All three men stopped at mid-step, as the elderly healer and her still not-quite respectably clothed apprentice came around the corner.

“I will tell you when to work, when to eat and when you have earned a moment’s rest.” Helgarda was stalking around the edge of the stair, her hand brushing the stone wall, guiding her way. “Right now, you must weed the herb-”

“I finished that over an hour ago!” Eadignes was bouncing behind the elderly woman, her face flushed with anger. “The herb garden has been weeded, the larger plants pruned and staked. I have crushed the thyme, the coriander, sliced several cucumbers, soaking in the witch hazel water-”

“Why did you do that?”

“BECAUSE!” Eadignes was screaming and even Éomer stepped backwards, up a step. Gamling was now used to the noise, and was simply staring off towards the stable, as if contemplating the lay of the roof. “In case you forgot, you absent-minded crone, there is a wedding tomorrow and the bridal party will wish them for their eyes!”

Helgarda turned and glowered at the younger girl. “Why in all of Arda would you even-”

“BECAUSE GAMLING’S MOTHER TOLD ME TO!”

Helgarda reared up, her spine rigid. “Oh. Aelwydd did?” She blinked twice. “Well, that’s different.” She turned and continued on. “Well, in that case, we need to get bath salts and herbs ready for the bridal bath...” She went around the corner muttering, with Eadignes following behind, cursing like a soldier.

Éomer stood watching them, his mouth hanging agape. His finger twitched back and forth, ticking from the corner where the two bickering women had emerged to the corner they had disappeared around, echoes of their argument still bouncing off the walls. 

“I hate to intrude.” Faramir had stepped around Éomer, who was still in shock and now stood next to Gamling. “My Rohirrim is rather... vague-”

“I would imagine so.”

Faramir smiled nervously at the imposing man, who despite being on the step below him, still looked him in the eye. “Éowyn has taught me a few of your more... colorful phrases-”

“You understood what the younger woman was saying at the end?”

“Uhm... yes.”

 

Éomer was still in shock, finger flicking.

“She taught you well. Sire?”

Éomer’s eyes were squeezed shut, his finger now pointing straight up and pressed against his nose and forehead. “Eadignes was with... Helgarda?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“But,” the finger was back in the air, beating a rhythmic tatoo, “Eadignes works at the Blue Whale!”

“Not anymore, Sire.”

“Stop that!”

Gamling arched an eyebrow. “Stop what, Sire?”

“Stop calling me ‘sire!’” Éomer raked his fingers through his hair, pulling it back. “I was going to drag your arse down to the Blue Whale and pay Eadignes to give you a lap dance, just so I could watch you squirm! And now you are telling me she no longer works there?”

“That is correct,” Gamling nodded thoughtfully. “And that is the problem.”

Éomer was now continuing down the steps. “Lead on. Béma! I was particularly fond of Eadignes!”

_***So was I...***_

“She was... talented?” Faramir asked tentatively.

“She was...”

“Cuddly.”

“Yes!” Éomer picked up on Gamling’s one-word answer. “She wasn’t skinny, like a lot of the younger girls try to be. She was a-” he lifted his hand, inspecting the curve of his palm, “a handful, nice and soft to hang on to. No bones!” Éomer looked up from his musings to see his Marshal blushing furiously, heading stiffly towards the lower barn and stockade. “She was very fond of my Marshal-”

“Sire, if you please.”

 

“I think,” Faramir whispered conspiratorially, “that you are embarrassing the man.”

_***I am getting married tomorrow to the woman who is everything I have ever desired. The last thing I want to be discussing tonight is the... cuddliness... of a woman I paid to sleep with me.***_

“Eh!” Éomer waved the Gondorian Ranger off. “He’s used to it.” The two followed behind Gamling, who was cutting a path to the lower barn. “Where are we going?”

“The stockade.”

“The stockade?” Éomer now broke into a trot to catch up. “Who have we put in the stockade? What did he do to be...”

“Fugol. Fyren’s eldest.” They reached the door to the lower barn, an area where grain and unsavory guests were housed. Gamling nodded to the Rider standing guard, his hand out for the key ring held at the young man’s waist. “Where?”

“Last stall, on the right.”

“Fyren’s get?” Éomer hissed. “Why should I not be surprised?” The three men ducked into the cool darkness of the earthen basement, dug under the Royal Stables. Light was filtered from highly placed and barred windows and Gamling strode to the far back of the corridor. It appeared that he backed up, standing as far from the bolted gate as possible, his hands held behind his back.

“Get up, Fugol.”

“For you? Go get-” the churlish young man stopped when Éomer stepped into the single ray of light shining down the gallery. 

“You were saying?” Éomer stood, Gamling clearly seen over his right shoulder. “Don’t stop on my account.”

Fugol snarled, before turning around, his back to his liege lord and heading into the shadows. His left eye was black and swollen shut.

“Nice bruise, Fugol. Want to tell us how you got it?”

Even in the shadows, one could see the young man look over his shoulder. “Willan has a heavy fist.”

The King of Rohan frowned and turned to his Marshal standing behind him. “Willan hit him? Willan is the gentlest soul in Rohan. The boy must have done something dreadful.”

“Very.”

Silence.

“Well?” Éomer actually sounded a bit perturbed. “Are you going to tell me?”

In the dimming light, Gamling’s facial features could barely be seen. “Eadignes said no.”

“She’s a whore! I would have pa-”

“Be quiet!” Éomer didn’t glance in Fugol’s direction, instead pinning his most steadfast knight with a stare. “She said no?”

“She is training to be a healer and left the Blue Whale some weeks ago. He asked. She said no. He refused to take no for an answer and Willan reinforced her decision.”

“Oh.” the young king pondered Gamling’s words, nodding in agreement. “No means no.”

“I would ha-”

“No. Means. No. Regardless of what she did or does for a living.”

“I-”

“Gamling!” Éomer had raised his voice just enough to make the young man back down. “Do I detect the youngling’s inability to see the direness of his situation?”

“Yes, sire. That is also a problem.”

“Hmm.” Éomer stroked his chin, smoothing the hairs in his beard. “I don’t think we’ll get a straight answer out of him. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“Certainly.” Gamling relaxed, his hands still behind his back. “Eadignes was in the healer’s garden, when Fugol approached her. She rejected his advances and he became angered. That’s when Willan stepped in.”

“So the bruise happened before you reached him?”

“No.” Gamling shook his head. “Eadignes came and got me and when I got to the garden, Willan had Fugol pinned to the wall.”

“By the throat and off the ground!” Fugol had come to the barred gate and pressed his battered face to the coolness of the irons. “He damn near strangled me!”

“If you do not shut up, I’m going to strangle you.” Éomer responded tersely. He turned back to the Horse Lord. “Continue.”

“In short,” Gamling continued, matter of fact and to the point, “Fugol continued on in the same manner as you see here. She said no and he refused to take no for an answer.” He stopped for a moment, contemplating his next words. “She had been slapped, my lord.”

Éomer heard Faramir’s hissed intake of breathe. On a deep level, he realized the Gondorian Prince was quietly assessing his ruling and leadership abilities, but Faramir’s opinion mattered little to him in truth. “When did Willan hit him?”

Again, Gamling thought deep on his words. Éomer knew not to rush the older man; every opinion, every piece of advice, was heavily weighed, carefully thought of. At times, others teased him for it; Éomer had himself in his younger years, but Théoden had reminded him often to give the Marshal his time, his thoughts. Everything would come out specifically placed and unquestionable.

“I gave Willan permission to hit him after Fugol admitted to slapping her.”

Éomer turned back to the young man in the jail. “And yet, he is still insolent?”

Gamling was still weighing words. “Sire,” he began softly, “the night she left the Blue Whale, she had been... ill-used. Eadignes has stated it was Fugol.” The look Éomer gave Fyren’s son was pure fury. “At that point, I allowed Willan to hit him twice.”

“You showed great restraint, my friend.”

“Oh,” Gamling followed cheerfully, “I hit him first.” He smiled at Éomer. “I will admit that.”

“You didn’t beat him to a pulp?”

“I left that for you.”

“But she’s just a wh-” It hit Fugol that the former prostitute was held in higher esteem than he. “-woman!”

“Just a woman?” Éomer queried softly. “Do I detect a complete lack of respect for the women of the Riddermark?” The full fury of the King was aimed at this one, very young, very stupid Rider. “Just a woman?” he repeated, stepping closer to the barred gate. “Just a woman slew the Witch King of Angmar. Just a woman oversaw Edoras during war. Just a woman birthed your miserable arse.” Fugol couldn’t see it, but Gamling clearly observed Éomer clench his fists tightly. “Where is your cloak?”

Fugol had moved back into the shadows, but his eyes gleamed with the burning anger of a cornered animal. “Idonthaveone,” he mumbled.

“I did not hear you, Ri-”

“I said I don’t have one!”

“Oh,” Éomer inhaled sharply. He looked over his shoulder to Gamling. “I thought one had to earn a Rider’s cloak before they were allowed into the Blue Whale.”

“Typically, one has by the time they reach his age.”

“Hmm.” Éomer tapped his lip, as if in deep thought. “We should rectify that.”

“Sire.” The honorific was spat, as if the word itself were distasteful, “my father is dead. I am the eldest and provider for my siblings.”

_***I know women who are shouldering their husband’s responsibilities. You would take care to learn from them...***_

“Really?” The king appeared astounded. “Tell me, how can you provide for your brothers and sisters if you are pestering the women at the Blue Whale, accosting women in the healer’s herb gardens and cooling your heels in the stockades for pestering and accosting women?” He let his words sink in for a moment before continuing. “What woman would want a man who hasn’t earned a Rider’s cloak?”

“Who says I need a woman?” Fugol had retreated further into the small cell, completely hidden in the shadows.

The smile on Éomer’s face was not a nice one. “Who says you need a woman? Gamling, have you ever said that?”

“When I was young, sire.”

“Ah.” Éomer nodded in agreement. “When you were young. And yet, tomorrow, you are getting married. Funny, how the world changes.”

_***Very funny indeed, hardyharhar we are so laughing Éomer. Discipline him and be done with it.***_

As if he heard Gamling’s inner thoughts, Éomer turned back to the young man in the small prison. “How many brothers do you have over aged twelve summers?”

“Three.” It was churlish, pulled from him by force.

“Three and you. What ever shall we do? Gamling?” Éomer asked over his shoulder, “does Elfhelm still have that particularly difficult Captain in charge of his garrison?”

An evil grin split Gamling’s face, knowing now what fate lay in store for Fugol and his brothers. “To the best of my knowledge, aye.”

“No!” Fugol rushed the gate, hands clenched around the bars. “Elfhelm is in the Eastemnet! Who will watch after the little ones?”

“You are one to talk about your siblings.” Éomer showed no mercy. “It is a bit late for that now. Now,” he tapped his lip thoughtfully, “what to do with you...”

_***Beorniabeorniawhattodowithyou...***_

“Sire, please-” A single finger in the air silenced the imprisoned man.

“Gamling? What say you?”

“I say,” Gamling began slowly, “we send him and the one beneath him to Elfhelm. Elfhelm’s captain is known for... adjusting the attitudes of problematic Riders.” Gamling glanced at Faramir, who was watching the scene play out with infinite precision. He knew, as did Éomer, that Faramir was watching closely, watching how the King interacted with his Marshal, dealt with an insolent young man. For all of the Rohirrim King’s light-heartedness, he could rein it in with the swiftness of a summer storm.

And then there was that temper of his.

Lightning.

“I suspect he and his brother,” Gamling continued, “whose reputation is equally vile, will have their heads knocked on a regular basis and therefore, I would suggest we send the next two to Erkenbrand.”

“Perhaps, it would do them good to see their brothers-”

“No.” Gamling was shaking his head, eyes now squinting in the dim light. “Erkenbrand has a lighter touch with the younger ones. Besides, he has twin sons aged thirteen summers, of age with the two. Best I recall, they are mischievous, full of energy, but well behaved and steadfast. The brothers will have each other and they will make friends with Erkenbrand’s sons. It would be a healthier home life for both of them.”

Faramir’s eyes showed open admiration. Several times, Éomer and Éowyn had spoken of the quiet, taciturn Marshal, with obvious respect and in Éowyn’s case, adoration. Éomer had made jokes of the man, but they were good-natured, his veneration of him obvious. 

“But,” Fugol spoke up, his agitation again stirring the storm, “the younger one-”

“Yes, the young ones.” Éomer interrupted. “How many more are there?”

“Seven.”

Faramir gasped. “Seven more? Your people must breed like rabbits!”

“We try,” Éomer agreed dryly, “It was one of the few things Fyren was successful at.”

“Very successful,” Gamling agreed.

_***Beorniabeorniawillyoucanyouwouldyou...***_

“As for the others, I suppose we could farm them out among the families here in Edoras. That would mean splitting them up more, which I hate to do.”

The answer to the problem Gamling had been wrestling with for days was formulating quickly in a normally over-cautious mind. He stepped closer, into the ray of sunlight, almost even with the King.

_***itcouldwork... it would work...***_

“Sire. My sister-”

“Fuck your sister! My sibl-”

_**!CRACK!**_

As it had before, Gamling’s fist came from nowhere, a furious fire contained within four knuckles. Éomer moved sideways, when he felt the older man bow up and he seemed amused when Fugol’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, his body sliding slowly to the floor. Both he and Faramir grinned at the Marshal, who shook his hand before inspecting the skin on the back of it closely.

_***Dammit! Dammit! Aefre will kill me if I show up to our wedding with bruised knuckles from fighting!***_

“Need an alibi about that?”

The Horse Lord glared. King or no, he-

“I will not go into my marriage lying to Aefre. She’ll understand.”

_***I hope...***_

The threesome stepped closer to the gate, looking down on the knocked out young man. “Should we wake him?” Faramir asked gamely.

“Nah. Won’t matter anyway.” Éomer nodded decisively. “You were saying?”

Back to that. Fine. “The elder of my sisters - Beornia - is recently widowed and grieving deeply. Her sons are of age to begin Rider training; in fact, the elder is training his first horse, and needs much guidance, but there are no Riders near her home to teach him.”

“Is fostering them out of the question?”

Gamling was scowling, his head nodding negatively. “They are all she has. As with many, she is having a difficult time, and clings to all she has left.” It was clear that Fugol wasn’t going to wake anytime soon, so Gamling nodded towards the door, and the trio made their way towards it. “My mother will be returning to our garrison after my wedding as there are still repairs and the harvest coming up.”

_***Not to mention she is determined to be here for the arrival of her grandchild...***_

They stepped into the yard, eyes immediately adjusting to the sudden light from the sun that was glinting hard from the roof of Meduseld. “I would ask that she be allowed to stay here and help Éowyn while we are in Minas Tirith. Fyren’s household has not had a strong feminine influence. They need mothering and she needs a reason to get up in the mornings.”

“Not to mention, her boys can train with Elfhelm while he is here and you can take over upon our return.” Éomer was now moving towards the courtyard, away from the barn and stockades. “And she will have a reason to stay. Question however; who will tend to her farmstead?”

“She and her family lived with my mother. My mother will have plenty of help. Beornia can be spared.”

Faramir was mentally ticking with his finger. “So that is how you will settle them. The young ones will go to your Marshal’s sister, who will remain here. That way they stay together and she can remain behind with her sons while they train in your ways.”

“Aye.” It was a duet.

“The two middle ones will go to your Captain Erkenbrand, where they will not only be trained by one who is patient with young squires, but has sons of his own the same age.”

“Fostering.”

“And the two elder ones, will go to Elfhelm, with the...” his voice trailed off as Éomer’s face split into a grin and Gamling’s shoulders shook with restrained laughter. “What is it about this ‘captain’ of Elfhelm’s that has the two of you snickering like children? I remember Elfhelm well. Tough soldier and comrade in arms, but he was easy-going and had a rather earthy sense of humor-”

“Elfhelm’s captain,” Éomer began, “is his wife. Elfhelm loves her deeply, but-”

“She’s in charge.” Gamling finished. “She runs a tight garrison and any married Horse Lord will tell you that once married, a warm bed is better to sleep in than in the stall with your horse.”

“She swings a mean frying pan, as well.”

“Oooooh.” Faramir nodded in understanding. 

Éomer and Faramir continued on, the conversation changing to other mundane things; the trip from Rivendell, Gamling straggling further and further behind. From the corner of the Great Hall, Aefre emerged from the side, women traipsing behind; Éowyn, Beornia, Aelwydd, Sulis, Maida, Arwen, and Lothiriel following close. They each carried baskets, oils and soaps piled high. They were closely shadowed by servants, baskets piled with fluffy towels...

The Bridal Bath... That important female ritual where the bride and her family and friends oiled and soaped and washed and...

***  
 _“It’s for you and your friends!” Gamling had chortled when Aefre had told him what important rituals brides performed the night before the ceremony. “I’m your friend! Why can’t I join you?”_

_“Because you are supposed to do the same with your male friends and have your hair and beard trimmed!”_

_“I’m not trimming my beard!”_

_“Well, you’re not bathing with me tomorrow!”_

_***_

_***dammit dammit I’m getting really hard here...***_

Lothiriel’s eyes were darting everywhere, taking everything in. Her eyes widened in surprise and she ducked, blushing, when she caught Gamling inspecting her.

_snapsnapsnap_

Éomer was clicking his fingers in front of Gamling’s face. “Gamling! Gamling! Over here! Stop looking at your bride like she is the final feast!”

A rather silly grin split his features. “Oh, I could tell you stories...”

“Well, don’t!” Éomer grimaced playfully. “The two of you are old. I’m sure your joints will creak as much as the bed tomorrow!”

Faramir chose that moment to lose his breath. “So,” he managed to wheeze, “part of the bride-y things is a community bath?”

“Gamling?” Éomer looked damned well pleased with himself.

“I expect they will give her advice on what to expect tomorrow evening.”

This set off more rude jokes, nudging and winking. This time, as the younger men moved on and started up the stairs to the pavilion in front of the Great Hall, they took no notice that Gamling was not with them. He watched as they moved upwards, before turning and darting back, climbing the watchtower in the corner. He sent the young guard down for dinner, reminding him to return upon finishing.

_***Peace peace peace and quiet...***_

For a long time, Gamling stared over the expanse of wide - opened plain, the fields surrounding beginning to burgeon with planted crops. Over to his right, simbelmyne nodded and swayed over mounds that rose and fell gently. The mound that cradled Elfhild, Théoden’s late wife, would be re-opened upon their return from Minas Tirith, in order to place Théoden within. Deep down, Gamling felt that this was truly the reason Éomer wanted Gamling to attend Aragorn and Arwen’s wedding. They would be bringing Théoden’s body back, and it would be a difficult task for the young king.

_***At least he will be returning home, to rest next to his wife. Too many did not; too many empty marks were returned...***_

“Scoop of grain for your thoughts.”

Gamling looked over his shoulder, to see Éomer standing there. For a change, the young man wasn’t bursting with humor or temper, but was restrained, almost shy.

“Just thinking.” Gamling turned back to the fields, admiring the patchwork that lay before him. The sun had begun its slow descent and shadows from the mountains were spreading over the fields.

It was quiet for several minutes before Éomer spoke up again.

“Are you scared?” He recoiled slightly at Gamling’s glare. “I mean, this is a huge decision and you’ve been alone for so long. Isn’t it frightening to suddenly bind yourself forever to one woman? I would be terrified.” Éomer was rambling, and Gamling realized he wasn’t asking him for his sake, but rather the king was chewing on something that bothered him. Éomer was now looking over the same stretch of land, not really seeing it. “How do you know? How do you know that she’s the one?”

Gamling turned his back on the horizon, arms spread and braced on the railing. “You just know. There is a peace within that you wouldn’t trade for anything or anyone.”

If Éomer heard him, he didn’t let on. The King was now contemplating the seeing glass, left behind by the guard. He picked it up and fingered the workings, used his sleeve to polish the glass. “Faramir has formally asked me for Éowyn’s hand. It’s her decision and I’ll not say no. She told me she was staying behind to think, to see how her heart lies after he leaves, but she will agree when he returns and I’ll lose her to Gondor.”

Éomer had been skirting the subject and Gamling put it on the table for him. “Perhaps you should consider marriage yourself. As you stated, there are plenty of eligible women-”

He looked up with a growl. “When we entered Rohan from Rivendell, every inn, every place we stopped, women threw themselves at me. Riders tried to foist their daughters on me.” He paused for a moment. “Young, old, thin, fat. Béma, one was old enough to be my mother!” He wagged his finger at Gamling who was now chuckling quietly. “And she was toothless! Her breasts hung down about her knees!”

“That was a vision I could have lived without, Éomer.” Gamling’s mouth twitched, barely able to keep a straight face.

“A vision you could live without? Woman was naked in my bed! I damn near lost my dinner!”

_***I bet you squ-eeeeealed like a girl!***_

“Laugh it up, old man!” Éomer wasn’t laughing. “It was nasty!” His back was turned to his Marshal and Gamling could tell by the stiff set of his shoulders he was far from happy. Éomer studied the plains before him, the wind weaving through the tops of the rows of wheat, immature corn husks further out, beckoning to young children, to play hide and seek among the stalks. “They aren’t interested in me. They are interested in becoming Queen of Rohan. I will have to wake up next to her every morning! I would like for there to be something more there than the prestige of being Queen of the Riddermark!” He set the seeing glass down in disgust. “I want her to want to be in my bed because she wants to be my wife, not my Queen.” There was a short silence. “I want a marriage, not a political or business arrangement! Already, I have foreign nobles pandering for my throne! Prince Imrahil has gone as far as to present me with a list of eligible noble women from Gondor who would make ‘a suitable match.’ His daughter was at the top of the list! Damn, I wish I were you!”

Gamling turned his back, knowing the young man was agitated and had every right to be. Before Théoden’s death, life was a series of skirmishes, small battles, and the occasional enjoyment of female flesh, readily given and readily accepted. Gamling himself had partaken in such recreational pursuits, not thinking of the future, or his heart. But now, reality had come banging its way to the gates of Edoras. No longer able to freely go and enjoy, Éomer now had a country to care for, to worry over, like a father. Women would pay to claim they had slept in the king’s bed, use this to trap him. Small wonder he now questioned everything.

Reality was a warg!

In the blink of an eye, the joke he and Aefre had made over and over of setting Éomer up with a fat, ugly princess, lost its humor.

Scanning the horizon, Gamling’s eyes fell on a sight he had not expected to see and despite the seriousness of the conversation with his king, what he beheld warmed it and gave him hope. “Do you not like the Princess of Dol Amroth?”

“Not like?” Éomer’s breath came out in a rush. “Gamling! She’s beautiful! She’s intelligent, a capable chatelaine, to hear Imrahil talk. She is compassionate and Éowyn says she has a wicked sense of humor. I have never seen eyes so green. I just want to take her hair down and run my fingers through it. I want to taste her.”

The last sentence was whispered and Gamling’s eyebrows rose at the wistfulness in his voice.

“Éomer! You’re a grown man. You know how to woo a woman!”

“That’s the problem, old man!” Éomer smacked the railing of the fence. “How do I know she would want me for me? Besides,” at this, his voice grew sullen and petulant, “she wears more wealth dangling from her ears and neck than my people will know in a lifetime. She is educated; reads and writes, ciphers in her head. She will more than likely faint at the sight of horses mating! I’ll not have anyone look down on the Rohirrim and pity them!”

There. It was out.

_*** I am so glad I am not king.***_

“The woman I marry,” Éomer was continuing on, “must know and understand that Rohan is my mistress and not only will I not give her up, she will stand on equal footing with my queen!”

Gamling thought back, to the gratitude and open admiration Éomer and Rohan had received from Gondor, from the guests that currently resided at Edoras. He clearly remembered a glimpse of Lothiriel trying to converse with Sulis’ youngest daughter, a little girl barely talking. Most of all, he knew the heat in the looks the two had been giving each other. He was not blind.

_***If Éomer and Éowyn could shove Aefre and myself into each other’s arms, why can’t I do that to Éomer? One uppity, over-protected..._

_No._

_One lovely, compassionate, intelligent princess for you, my lord...***_

“You ask for much from a woman, Éomer, but that will settle itself out. Would you hand me the seeing glass, please?” He held his hand out behind him, waiting for the instrument to placed within. He was not kept waiting and he placed it to his eye, a grin bigger than the plains gracing his face.

“What are you looking at?” Éomer finally came to stand beside him.

“Oh, nothing really. Just my future wife and her friends in their Bridal Bath.”

***  
tbc  
***


	37. 36 - Rub a dub dub, so-called Men in a Tub

**_Rider Of The Mark 36_**

**_Rub A Dub Dub, So-Called Men In The Tub_**

*****

Aefre leaned back, the warmth of the tub, the scent of the herbs, soothing and relaxing. There had been much giggling when Sulis, Gamling’s youngest sister, pinned up Aefre’s hair and not only put cucumber slices over her eyes, but smeared her face with the nastiest, oily stuff she had ever encountered.

_Well, at least they are ALL wearing it. I’m not alone._

It felt nice.

The conversation did not lag, for which Aefre was grateful. While not comfortably fluent, the sisters were able to converse in some Westron, their father insisting they understand somewhat in order to wrangle with traders. The jokes ranged from good-natured ribbing on what to expect on her wedding night, jokes that made Lothiriel blush and Éowyn smile.

“He will act the conquering stallion-”

“-when we all know he’s been out to pasture too long!”

Lothiriel sank lower in the water.

“Best let him think he’s a conquering stallion!”

“Aye! He’ll be easier to rope and lead around!”

Aefre shook her head, chuckling, glad for the oily mess on her face. “Lead Gamling around? I don’t think so. I love him too much to do that to him.”

“Thank you.” Beornia’s voice was soft, whispered in Aefre’s ear. “My brother is a proud man. I would hate to see him brought to heel.”

Aefre lifted the cucumber slices from her eyes and turned to look at the elder of her future sister-in-laws. “Your brother is a good man, a strong and wise one. I would not change him for all the Mearas in Arda.” She lowered the cooling vegetable back over her eyes and leaned back. “Besides, if he thinks he is being brought to heel, he’ll become cantankerous.”

Much giggling and ‘ayes’ for that.

“So,” Lothiriel’s voice was tentative, questioning, “it is custom for the women to enjoy a community bath before the ceremony in Rohan?”

“No.” Aefre answered sweetly. “It is custom for the bride and her female relations and friends to enjoy a community bath before the ceremony. It allows us to make jokes at the expense of our menfolk and wonder at the prowess of our future husbands.”

“Not to mention, frighten future brides!” Sulis was laughing, flicking water at Aefre. She didn’t seem to mind the joking at her expense.

“Oh, then I shouldn’t be here.” Lothiriel turned to look for her towel.

“Nonsense!” Éowyn put a restraining hand on the young Princess’ shoulder. “Besides, my brother, the blow-hard, ordered you join us!”

“He ordered-”

“What Éowyn is neglecting to say,” Aefre immediately sensed the confusion in the young woman’s voice, “is that our King realized that you and Arwen were probably tired from being on horseback for days and would appreciate not only a warm bath, but a little light-hearted company.” She flicked water on Faramir’s beloved. “She loves digging at him. I suspect it’s a sibling-rivalry thing.”

Lothiriel immediately relaxed and slid back down into the water. “Will the men do this after we finish?”

“If he’s smart,” Beornia spoke up, “and if he does, he won’t invite my boys!”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Aefre mumbled.

“Be afraid! Be very afraid!” Beornia retorted, more humor in her voice than Aefre had seen or heard since her arrival. “They still think passing wind in the bath water is socially acceptable!”

Lothiriel turned white.

Éowyn cringed.

Aefre shook her head in mock disgust, while Gamling’s sisters and mother laughed at the silliness of males. The laughter and suggestive jokes continued until a kitchen maid arrived by the large tub with goblets of honeyed mead and passed them around.

“Might I ask a question?” Arwen, for the most part, had been very quiet, watching the goings on with the patience of one who had been alive for many years. She lifted her goblet gracefully. “When is your baby due, Lady Aefre?”

Orva squealed in delight while Sulis and Maida coughed in shock, mead spewing, Éowyn’s own goblet stopped in mid-lift, her eyes as wide as saucers. Beornia and Aelwydd exchanged looks no one saw.

“I beg your pardon?” Aefre was shocked, not by the audacity, but by the knowledge. She had entered the tub first, shielded by Aelwydd and Beornia, who had engaged the group in conversation.

“I am sorry,” Arwen dipped her head. “I thought you knew. My grandmother said your babe is well planted.”

“I knew.”

The younger of Gamling’s sisters started to rise from the water, Éowyn as well, congratulations spilling from their lips, before being restrained with hands and head-nods from Aelwydd and Beornia.

“You wished to keep this secret.” Arwen’s gaze was a fathomless pit of dark blue. “I am sorry.”

“Secret?” Orva was the next to youngest of Gamling’s sisters and her flaming red hair gave heed to her quick and hot temper. Her voice was high-pitched and it carried on the wind. She winced at the sound, as well as was smacked by her mother, and lowered her voice. “Secret? Why would you wish to keep it secret? Haven’t you told Gamling?”

“She’s One of the Blessed!” Beornia spat. “Keep your voice down. And yes, he knows!”

The sisters knew what that was, and non-stop, low-voiced chattering began; speckled whispers, fierce Rohirric consonants passing back and forth over the large, deep vat.

“Aefre?” Éowyn spoke up over the murmuring, “what do they mean by One of the Blessed?”

Aefre waited for the sisters to stop before answering. “Our baby was conceived at Dunharrow, on the eve of battle. Gamling returned to Edoras badly injured and the pregnancy was confirmed before I returned to his bed. We know the exact night I conceived as it was only the one night.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “There are many women in Rohan who are considered One of the Blessed. Many of them however, will be raising these children alone. I feel guilty parading about with not only a baby in my arms, but a new husband as well.” Her attention reverted downwards to the water, her fingers flicking the edge of the liquid nervously. “It seems unfair. Not to mention, I am a bit long in the tooth to be having my first child.”

“You are frightened.” Arwen’s voice was deep, wisdom of the ancients.

Aefre raised her goblet, staring deeply at the contents swirling gently within. “I am terrified.”

“My father is a healer of much renown. I would ask him to attend you, and he will ease your fears.”

Aefre waved her off, shaking her head. “I have heard of the healing prowess of Elrond of Rivendell, however I am simply a first time mother with nothing more than first time jitters. I would appreciate it if he looked at Gamling’s wound and make sure it’s healing properly. His side pains him much.” She took a pull and whispered into the goblet. “He has very dark dreams that worry me.”

The Princess of Dol Amroth had been listening, taking in the quiet distress of the noblewoman. “Your Gamling witnessed the battle of Pelennor Fields?”

“Witnessed?” Aefre’s eyebrows raised as high as they would go. “Was in the middle of it, as well as at the Black Gate. I fear he blames himself for Théoden King’s death.” She waved off the protests of Gamling’s family. “Somehow, they became separated and Gamling was too far off to reach him when he saw Snowmane fly through the air. By the time he reached him, he was dead.”

“Lady Aefre,” Lothiriel’s voice took on a serious, mature edge. “I watched that battle from the upper reaches of Minas Tirith. It was horrible. No one should blame themselves for anyone’s death, least of all, your Gamling.”

“My Gamling,” Aefre responded gently, “is a Marshal of the Riddermark. He is not just the commander of the King’s armies; he was Captain of the King’s personal guard. Théoden was his responsibility and he feels he failed that duty.” Her eyes dropped for a moment. “I can’t begin to imagine the things he dreams about, talks of in his sleep. He talks of Snowmane flying as if he was winged through the air-”

“Someone put an awful epitaph on Snowmane’s burial mound,” Éowyn spat angrily. “Théoden’s Bane, they have labeled him.” Her words were followed by enraged hissing. “I saw the beast that felled both horse and rider. None could have withstood it.”

“You did.” Lothiriel’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “I heard and saw.”

“I had help.”

“A Halfling, a Hobbit.” Lothiriel’s smile was humorous, indulgent. “ ‘Tis said the Hobbit rode with you and you both felled the Witch King. I was in the Houses of Healing during the battles. I nursed many of your countrymen.” She shrugged good-naturedly. “Couldn’t understand most of them, any of them,” she amended. “Very few speak Westron, but I watched, saw when they brought you in. Your brother sat by your bed for two days, refused food or water. It was noted how much the new King of Rohan must deeply love his sister.”

“Bite your tongue!” Éowyn’s tone was sharp, but the merriment in her eyes was obvious. “If I died, my brother would have no one to pester!”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters, Lady Aefre?” Arwen’s voice was lilting, deceptively soft. Aefre’s falling eyes were not lost on anyone.

“I had a brother.”

“I am sorry.” Arwen did indeed sound apologetic. “He fell during the War?”

Aefre was making senseless circles in the water with the tips of her fingers. “No. My father, husband, and brother were killed in a skirmish near my home in the Wold some years ago.”

“Every man in your family was killed at once?” Sulis was filled with new respect. “You had no one to lean on. How did you survive?”

“I had,” Aefre flicked the water aimlessly, “a garrison and several homesteads to oversee. They kept me occupied. This-” she waved Gamling’s sister’s unspoken words off, “is a happy time for me. I never thought I would be lucky enough to find love a second time, especially not in a time of war. Truly, I am blessed!”

Orva raised her glass. “To love and big, fat Rohirrim weddings!”

So busy were the women toasting the bride, they didn’t see the struggle going on above them in the guard tower.

***

"Give me the seeing glass."

"No."

The King of Rohan held his hand out in a gesture not meant to be denied. "I command you to give me the seeing glass."

"I said no!" Gamling's voice was not raised, but it was one that sent stable boys scurrying and made men jump.

"You are denying me? Disobeying a direct order from your king?"

"My future wife is down there, might I remind you, as well as your sister!"

Éomer backed up a step, as if in shock. "You are spying on my sister?" A hand went over his heart. "You pervert!"

_***yeahyeahsaveit!***_

"As that might be, still I’ll not give you this. Besides," Gamling leaned over as if to betray a secret, "the Princess of Dol Amroth is down there and-" he raised a finger to ward the younger man off, "it would be considered gauche if the King of Rohan was caught spying on the Princess of Dol Amroth in the bath! You might," he lowered his voice further, "be forced to woo and wed said Princess!"

Éomer glared, fierce, feigned anger clearly evident. "That's low, Marshal." He licked his lips in thought. "She is comely?"

Gamling rolled his eyes.

_***Who would believe the esteemed Warrior and King of Rohan is such a flit!***_

He moved around Éomer, seeing glass in the opposing hand, so Éomer couldn't snatch it. "I wasn't paying attention. I only had eyes for my bride to be!" The guard was returning from dinner and was slowly mounting the steps. When he reached the landing, Gamling handed it to him. "Keep a close eye on the mountains and towards the west." He purposely pointed him away from the area where the women were. "Orcs and mountain men will use the setting sun for cover." He turned back to Rohan's king. "Let's go to eat before it's gone and if you promise to behave, I will allow you to treat me to drinks at The Frisky Shield Maiden!"

Even the guard shuddered at the suggestion. "Gamling!" Éomer was definitely put - out. "The Frisky doesn't have pretty tavern wenches. In fact," he added snidely, "they don't have amenable wenches, at all!"

Gamling had begun his descent down the rickety wooden stairs. "That might be, however, they do have excellent ale, and I won't worry about you hiring entertainment I don't need tonight."

_***not to mention, Aefre won't be as irate when she finds out...***_

He went down another flight of stairs. "Are you coming or not? I won't make the offer twice."

"Yes, yes, I'm right behind you!"

***…***

_***I don beliefe thish!***_

It was late. The moon had reached its zenith and Gamling was swaying on his feet. He laid his head against the door. It was steady and unmoving.

_***I wonner if she'll buy the Grun' the Mounnan Man schtory again... naaaaah.... pro'bly not. I sschhould just...***_

If there hadn't been a faint light under the door, he would have turned away, but it was there, he thought he could hear movement...

_***hopenooneswifher...***_

He lifted his hand and rapped, not so confidently. There was tell-tale swishing behind the door.

"Who's there?"

"Lemme in, pleasch."

The door whipped open, Aefre in a white night shift. Her jaw dropped. "Gamling! What are you-"

He staggered in, making a beeline for the nearest stable thing in the room and sank into it. The chair didn’t give way, which was as it shouldn’t, and he fitted himself comfortably in it. "Canneye schtay here tonight?" He looked bleary - eyed up at her. "I'll schleep inna chair and leaf at schunrise..."

"You're drunk!"

_***no sssssssschite!***_

"Fergot how poe-tant duh ale ish at duh Fer-ischky."

Aefre knelt down beside him, a half-smile on her face. "You went to the Frisky Shield Maiden rather than the Blue Whale?"

Gamling fought hard to remember and repeat what Éomer had said earlier, so long ago. "No a-mean-i-a-ble wen-chaes."

Aefre was shaking her head and giggling. "I suppose not."

"Ughly too."

"Really." It wasn't a question, simply a statement.

"Yeah. Arse ughly. But-" He raised a shaky finger, waving it aimlessly, "duh ale... ish the bescht!"

"I'm glad to know that, but-"

"E'mer ish worsch!"

Aefre caught herself repeating each word Gamling was saying. "Éomer is worse off than you?" Gamling's eyes, normally such a clear blue, unwavering and quick, were dull, bloodshot and struggling to focus. "Why is Éomer worse off than you?”

Gamling was really struggling to focus on Aefre’s face. “Tried tuh drink me unner t’table. Stew-pid arse.”

Aefre stood up and grabbed her husband - to - be by the hand, pulling him upwards from the chair. “That as it may be, you have a place to sleep tonight and it’s not in here with me.”

Gamling snatched his hand away and plopped back down in the chair. “Thersh a drunkin’ sot in muh bed!”

“I beg your pardon?”

The wavering finger presented itself again. “E’mer passed ow in muh bed. Fair’mir is inna chair!”

“Well, push Éomer over. The bed will fit two-”

“I’m not schleeping inna bed wit’ him!” Gamling tried to bellow and almost fell out of his chair. “Thas weird!” His shoulders slumped and the man stared bleary eyed up at her. “Pleas. Onwy udder place is d’staple.”

_With Dréogan._

Far be it for her to force him to sleep in the stable with his horse the night before his wedding.

“You’ve not bathed.” He smelled of ale and sweat. Gamling’s head was nodding and his eyes were getting heavy.

“Ne-fhews an’ tha’ scho-cawled king was havin’ a fartin’ contes’ inna wadder when I got dere.” The Rider was struggling to stay awake. “Schorry, Aah-vre.”

Aefre took his hand and pulled him upwards. “I don’t think you will be bedeviling me tonight, but you have to promise when I get you up in the morning, you’ll slip out quietly. Can’t have everyone talking!”

“No, no.” Gamling lumbered to his feet, swaying once standing fully. “Can haf no one... where m’my goin’?”

Aefre backed him slowly towards the bed, pushing him on it when they reached it. “You are going to bed, m’lord. Give me your foot.”

As his foot raised, Gamling fell backwards on the bed, eyes staring up at the bed hangings. “Ish green.”

One boot was off, the woolen stocking following. Aefre reached for the other foot. “Yes, Gamling, the bed drapes are green.”

One finger was up, drunkenly following the embroidery on the elaborate curtain. “Ish new.”

The second boot was off, Aefre’s thumbs pressing into the arch, massaging a small knot. “No. These are the hangings I put up when you moved into the room.”

A thoughtful scowl. “Really?”

“Really.”

Large toes wriggled in her hand, followed by a rumbling growl. “Time fer bed, Aah-vre.” Gamling tried to waggle his eyebrows, but due to his rather inebriated state, the leer was comical. Aefre swung his feet over on the bed.

“I’ll be along shortly, m’lord. You go on to sleep.”

The Marshal rolled to his side - truth be told, it took several tries - and patted her side of the bed, suggestively. “Bedbed!”

Aefre ignored the obvious invitation. “I have to finish packing for our trip, Gamling. I’ll be along in a few.”

“Pack termorrow. Yer gonna need yer sleep-”

“As I recall, we will be getting married tomorrow.” Aefre was pulling clothing from the clothing chest. “Believe me, you and I will be much too busy-”

“Gonna keep y’up awl niiiiiiiight...” Gamling’s voice was fading, his jaw cracking in an Gamling-sized yawn. “Come t’bed.”

Aefre smiled, an evil smile on her face. Béma, she loved the man and she readily admitted he made sure she enjoyed their sex life, as he never left her wanting, but once he came to completion, he was typically asleep in five minutes! “Count to one hundred and I’ll join you.”

There was a snort. “Awright. One. Tew. Free. Four. Sheven. Ate. Nine-”

“-teen.”

“Twenny. Twennyone. Tweenytew.”

“Three.”

“Four. Five. Schix... scheben... ate... ...nine...”

“One.”

“...tew... ... ... free... ... ... ... ffffff... zzzzzzz...”

Aefre looked over her shoulder to see her snoring Horse Lord cuddled up to her pillow. She made a mental note to send herbal tea to the bathhouse in the morning for his hangover. Come to think of it, better send enough for Éomer and Faramir, as well. It took her fifteen more minutes to finish packing the trunks for the two of them. For not the second time, she wished she had a few more nice things, but there was nothing to be done for it. What little she had would have to suffice for this Royal wedding. At least her soon to be husband would be properly outfitted, as befitting his station. With the last garment and small clothes packed carefully, she straightened, putting her hand to an aching back. She imagined it would only get worse as her pregnancy advanced. By now, her waistline was completely gone and her stomach was beginning to slightly protrude. With a caress, her hand slid over the hardening bump. “Not going to hide much longer, are you, little one?” She opened the window, fresh air invading the room, and blew out the rest of the lamps. Gamling had now rolled over on his back and was snoring enough to shake the bed. Aefre lowered herself gently, so not to wake him and snuggled into his side. Her hand slid over his waist and was comforted by the responding squeeze. “You big baby,” she whispered.

“Zats rite...zzzzzzzzzzzz” 

*****


	38. 37  Morning hath broken (as well as some of the kitchenware)

**_Rider Of The Mark 37_**

Morning Has Broken... As Well As The Kitchenware 

*****

_Gamling was dreaming._

_He was dreaming, he knew he was dreaming and the reason why he knew he was in that blissful state was because the Mûmakil was flying and it was pink!_

_Béma, was he going to be sick in the morning. Sick and getting married. It was going to be a perfect day._

_“Hold this rope.”_

_Gamling looked to his right and realized the painted savage herding this flying pink monster was his own father._

_“Now would be good, son.” Gamhelm was holding the rope in his outstretched hand._

_“You’re dead.” Gamling had been raised a good son and took the rope._

_“Always quick with the obvious, you were.” Gamhelm looked back over the cloudless sky. Rohan lay beneath the flying beast, a myriad patchwork of fields and pasture spread before them. “Rohan will recover. It will take years, several generations, to be sure and for a time, Rohan will have its share of dark-haired Horse Lords, but she will recover and regain her strength.”_

_“I have no doubt of that.”_

_Gamhelm never looked sideways, never acknowledged the comment from his eldest child and only son. It was quiet for a time, while the two surveyed the land beneath them. There was much destroyed, much burned and razed, but one could see new growth struggling here and there. Cattle and sheep were venturing to pasture, horses were cautiously inspecting old haunts and exploring new ones._

_“I am getting married tomorrow,” the younger finally blurted._

_“I know.”_

_“Wish you could be there.”_

_“I will be.” Gamhelm shrugged at Gamling’s astonished look. “Do you think I would miss it? The Sea of Nùrnan has frozen over; my son is getting married. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”_

_“Da-”_

_“Gamling.” They were no longer flying on the Mumakil, now they now standing on the rise over the homestead where Gamling was raised. Over his father’s shoulder, he could see his mother and one of his sisters hanging laundry on a line. “When I died, I thought I would be overjoyed at the peace and quiet I had finally achieved. I was wrong.” Gamhelm turned and headed down an old, worn path he and his son had trod many times. “I realized too fast, too soon, I missed you, I missed your sisters, I missed your mother, Béma, how I missed... how I miss that chattering, nagging, know-it-all woman! And so, until your mother joins me, which won't be for years, you may praise Béma, I roam the places of my youth, the hills of my adulthood.”_

_A gentle breeze picked up, ruffling both father’s and son’s hair. “I am the breeze that whips your mother’s skirts around her ankles, making her sputter. I rather like that.” As if to give heed to his words, the breeze snapped, causing Aelwydd’s skirts to twist around her calves, causing the woman to throw her hands up in exasperation. “She was a spitfire as a girl. She remained so into our marriage.” He stopped and winked over his shoulder. “I rather liked that as well!” He turned and continued on. “I will be the breeze the lifts your lady’s skirts when she mounts her horse tomorrow and I will be the breeze that cools the glade during your marriage. I will represent the Air when called tomorrow. Remember that.”_

_Gamling hurried to keep up with the strides of his sire. Old habit asserted itself and as he had as a youth, he attempted to put his feet in the imprint of his da’s footsteps._

_“You fill them.” Gamhelm never looked back._

_“Wha-”_

_Gamhelm stopped at the bottom of the hill and turned. “You fill them. You follow my footsteps and now you fill them. In all truth, you more than fill them. You live in a harsher world than I did. I don’t envy you. The day will come when your son will attempt to fill yours. Because of your hard work, he and his children will live in an easier world. Don’t let him be in such a hurry to do so.”_

_Gamling grew another inch, his backbone filled with pride. “I am going to have a son.”_

_Gamhelm scowled. “Someday. Get that self-satisfied smirk off your face! It will be as much your lady’s doing as yours!” He turned and strode off again. “I like your Aefre. You chose well. She was worth the wait.”_

_Yes... she was..._

_"You should talk to her. Tell her about your nightmares."_

_"Da, never have I heard you speak this much."_

_Gamling's father let out a roar of a laugh, one the likes of which Gamling had never heard from the man. "When did I have a chance to speak? You know your mother, your sisters! I can talk now until the cows come home. Problem is, there is no one to listen and no one talks back. Who listens to you?"_

_"Listens to me? Well, I-"_

_"You talk in your sleep. She knows, Gamling. She knows more than you realize and your lady worries about you." He motioned for Gamling to walk beside him. "You witnessed... what you witnessed, no man should harbor in his depths. It will fester, deep in your belly and burn like a cancer, a sore that will not heal. Before you enter the gates of Minas Tirith, you must tell her.”_

_Gamling scowled, his head shaking in refusal. “She has borne enough sorrow-”_

_“Word of advice on your marriage,” Gamhelm interrupted. “Your wife should be your best friend. Yes, you wish to talk to Háma; he rides the Halls of our Fathers with his wife by his side, knowing, happy that you have taken Haleth under your care. I am the wind, I cannot answer. Théoden King’s time had come. He came into the Halls a whole, noble man, not the shell he had become. When I was troubled, I went to your mother. She does know how to listen, thank Béma, and she cared about my feelings.” Gamhelm continued down the path, moving swiftly into a sudden rising fog. His voice carried on the wind, fading into-_

_"A great wrong has been done to her, to Lufian. You must aid Éomer in correcting that."_

_Éomer? Lufian? Why did his da wish to-_

_"You need someone who can listen, someone who won't speak and look at the waste that has become the Wold. You need one who will be trusted to not speak until it is time to speak the truth when the time comes.”_

_Speak but not speak? What riddle-_

_"Gamling?" The air around Gamhelm was starting to haze, the sound of his da's voice, beginning to fade. "Éomer will need you in the coming years. He will need your guidance, your knowledge. Be there for him.”_

_Gamhelm was fading, his words drifting away._

_“Gamling! Are you listening? Gamling! Gamling! Gam-”_

***

“-ling! Béma, wake up! Gamling!” There was a sharp crack on his leg. “Get up! We’ve overslept!”

Gamling’s eyes shot open, pinpoints of dagger tips embedding in his eyes. He closed them just as quickly, thousands of hammer blows banging on his head. “Béma-” Both hands went to his head.

“Head hurt?” Aefre was hissing. “It should, you big lummox!” The covers were yanked back to the bottom of the bed. “Get up! We’ve overslept!”

Gamling’s mouth felt like cotton and he attempted to suck on saliva to moisten it. “My mouth-”

“Sit up and have a drink!” A mug of water materialized in front of him as he struggled up. “It’s late! There are serving women in the halls and I don’t think I can sneak you out! What are we going to do?”

Gamling reached for the mug and took several tentative sips. The water did little to ease his parched throat and his stomach rolled as he swung his legs over the bed. “Béma-”

“No swearing today! Please! Béma!”

Gamling struggled to his feet, the need to relieve himself immediate. Slowly, he made his way towards the antechamber.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Aefre hissed. She was at the door, peeking out. “I have to-”

“I have to take a piss.”

“You can do that-”

“I can do it now!” Gamling was wincing with each spat consonant.

Aefre shut the door, none too gently, making him cringe again. “You can do that after I get you out of here!”

He stopped at the doorway, his hand on the lacings of his trousers. He forced himself to focus on a crack in the wall ahead of him. “I must do it now!”

“Gamling-”

“I said-” he turned to glare over his shoulder, teeth clenched, “I must take care of this now. Or would you prefer I do this on the floor?”

Gamling could see in his peripheral vision Aefre narrowing her eyes, hands on hips. “You would do that! You would do that just to make a point!”

_***Great. Great way to start our wedding day...***_

Gamling stepped into the antechamber, untying the lacings and freeing himself. “No. I might make it to the hall, first.”

The Horse Lord’s head throbbed in rhythm to the clanging in the chamber pot,

_***Béma whendidipisssoloud...***_

Aefre was a bundle of nerves, flitting back and forth, muttering and mumbling. For some odd reason, her agitated motions made Gamling's head hurt worse. His temples were pounding worse than a Dunlending's drums.

_***dammitdammitwhyinallofRohandidIhaftaproveIcoulddrinkthatbridlebrainunderneaththetable...***_

"GAMLING!" The Horse Lord looked up bleary eyed at the woman he would be marrying in a few, short hours. She stood in front of the door, still in her nightgown, one hand planted firmly on her hips, the other gesturing with the authority of an angered female. "The hall is full of serving women! Can you think of any way we can sneak you out?"

He blinked once. "I could just walk out. It isn't like we haven't be-"

She screeched.

He grimaced. “Don’t do that.”

Foul language he would never believe if he wasn't hearing it first hand, fell from her mouth - that kissable, lickable mouth, when it wasn't moving like an éored on attack - fell like ice in a hailstorm. She berated him, his drinking buddies, his temper, his -

"Aefre. I realize you're angry, but if you curse my horse, this marriage is off."

Aefre responded by bursting into tears. "This is all your... f...f...fffffault!"

_***she'sgotthatright***_

Gamling strode to the window, looking out and down. Aefre took no note that he was assessing the distance from the window to the ground.

"I can't believe we overslept.” She was wiping tears as fast as they fell. “I haven't overslept in... well, I’ve never overslept! I have always been an early riser..."

Gamling turned from the window, and perused the chamber's furniture. Spying a piece that looked suitable, he went to the bed and pulled back the light quilt the two had been so nicely cuddled up under not ten minutes previously. He grabbed the linen sheet, pulling it from the bed. "You were up late, last night."

"What do you remember of last night?"

_***not much of shite, to be honest***_

He grabbed a chair, the one he had claimed as his, and after dragging it several inches, which set his ears ringing, he bodily picked up it and took it to the window.

"... banging at my door..."

_***our door***_

"...in the middle of the night, three sheets to the wind, couldn't stand up, couldn't count, couldn't put three words together without slurring them... what are you doing?"

Gamling was tying the edge of the long sheet to the main spindle on the chair. "Risking life and limb to sneak out so no one will know that I slept in our bed last night." 'Our' was emphasized and the entire tirade was spat drolly, as the Groom was obviously irked. He yanked at the knot, ensuring it's tightness and stability. "Béma forbid-"

There was a knock at the door. "Aefre?" The knob rattled. “Aefre? Are you awake?”

_***great morning mother...***_

Aefre's mouth made a perfect 'o'. She turned to Gamling, her eyes exact mates to her mouth. “Oh-”

Gamling had climbed on the chair and was now sitting on the windowsill. “Call out that you are in the ante chamber and you’ll be right there and then come sit on this chair!” he whispered tersely. He swung his legs over the sill and proceeded to lower himself down the battlement. The chair banged against the wall and Aefre rushed to sit in it, in order to stabilize the piece of furniture.

“Aefre?” More rapping.

“I’m awake! I’ll be right there.”

“Aefre-”

“I’m on the chamber pot! Give me a minute!” The chair bounced several times, eventually stilling. She breathed a sigh of relief before finally standing and walking serenely to the door. She calmly opened the door.

“Good morning, Aelwydd.” She stepped aside to allow Gamling’s mother into the room. “I’m glad you-”

“Why is that chair by the window and what is a sheet doing tied to it?”

***

Gamling thought he’d never touch the ground. His arms ached; it had been quite some time since he had scaled a wall. After what seemed forever, bare toes dug into loose, rich soil and he felt confident enough to turn loose of the sheet.

“And where do you think you’ve been, boy?”

Gamling turned slowly around, blinking in the rising sun, only to be confronted by Cynn, the blacksmith and his adopted apprentice, Bawdewyne.

The boy was tossing a medium sized stone.

“Do not throw that at me,” Gamling warned him.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Gamling looked up to the window, before addressing the blacksmith. “Those are my chambers-”

“Then why did you feel the need to sneak out?”

Gamling was at a loss for words. His mouth worked furiously, no sound coming out. Cynn took full advantage, thoroughly disgusted.

“I don’t believe it. I thought you loved her! For Béma’s sake, you’re marrying her this morning and you’ve spent the night in another’s-”

“She was in the bed!” Gamling hissed. “I spent the night with her! We overslept and I couldn’t sneak out with my mother banging at the door!”

As if hearing her name, Aelwydd stuck her head out the window, glaring at her son. “Cynn? Is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Escort that miscreant of mine to the baths.” She shook an admonishing finger at Gamling. “Pull him by the ear if you feel like it!”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” He crooked a finger at Gamling. “Follow me. Bawdewyn, drop the rock.”

“Aw, damn.” He saw Cynn’s look of castigation and blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“You are too young to talk like that.” He headed down the hill, Marshal and boy in tow. “For that, you may go aid in the saddling of the Marshal’s war stallion and Lady Aefre’s mare.” He stopped the boy. “Make sure you put as many flowers in their manes as possible.” The two watched as Bawdewyn went off towards the stables.

Gamling flinched. “You don’t have to-”

“Serves you right!” Cynn nodded towards the baths. “At least I didn’t get caught sneaking from my wife’s chambers the night before our wedding. Where are your things?”

“Aefre’s old chambers.”

Cynn stopped and cocked his finger back and forth. “You go get your clothing and I’ll send for bath water and Willan to will bring you something for your headache.”

Gamling started to turn and stopped. “How did you know?”

“Eh. You’re squinting and squirming at every sound. Serves you right.” The blacksmith headed off towards the kitchens, no doubt looking for the large servant.

Gamling watched as the blacksmith strode away from him.

_***Damn this will be a wedding day never to forget...***_

_***_

_***Blessed water***_

Gamling sank gratefully into the bathing tub, the water steaming almost to the point of discomfort. Used to the frigid chill of a river or stream, the Horse Lord appreciated the warmth of a drawn bath.

If was only marred by the pounding of his head.

_***dranktoomuchshouldn't haveletthatdimwit sovereign talkmeinto adrinkin contest...***_

There was a low moan in the stall next to his and despite his hangover, Gamling felt a slow grin spread across his features.

"Sire?"

"Shaddup."

Gamling's eyebrows bounced once in glee, before grimacing in pain at the action.

_***glad tuh know I'm not the only one hurting, you deserveit deserve it trying to drink ME under the table, youngling!***_

_***That is your king you are cursing, your Lord, you are calling names..._

_... he sooooo deserves it!***_

Gamling sank lower into the water, the heat now covering him to his chin. The curtain drew quietly back, the visage of a giant Rohirrim shuffling softly in. Willan was smiling, a basket in his hands. The servant set the basket down on the table and, sniffing over the contents, pulled out a teapot. Steam was still rising from the spout.

"Please tell me that is a gift from Aefre," he whispered.

Willan smirked -

_***smirking at an aching man he should be so ashamed...***_

-setting the pot down and removing two mugs and a pouch of-

_***dirt. I'll bet she sent dirt to put in that tea or caffe to get me back for getting arse headed drunk and passing out on her last night I'm so dead so doooooomed...dammit I need to piss again!***_

A washcloth, a bar of soap, and small vial hit the water, splashing the Horse Lord in the face and rousing him from his internal grumbling. Gamling allowed the bar of soap to sink to a spot between his legs, his eyes resting on the small, corked bottle. "What's this?" He lifted it into the dim light-

_***AAARGH! Brightlightbrightlight***_

-lowering it quickly. Willan handed him a mug, the smell of tea and... nasty things rising in the vapors. Gamling dropped the vial, unaware that it floated between his knees, and reached for the mug. As he took the pottery goblet from the servant, Willan's hands went to his hair.

_*Wash with it like this.*_

"Please tell me this will help my head."

Willan's index finger made a circle around his ear.

_*Stupid*_

"Yeah, yeah. You're right."

There was another moan from the stall next to his.

"Serves him right!" Gamling took a tentative sip and almost spat the contents out into the bath water. "This is supposed to help?" Willan shrugged. "You know," Gamling took another sip, forcing the vile brew down, "If I wasn't getting married in the next few hours, I'd prefer to just sick this one up and wait."

Another moan.

Gamling narrowed his eyes in vindictiveness. "Is there enough of this shite for him?"

Willan nodded, reaching for the second mug.

_***gooooooooood***_

Willan began to pour tea and mix ... dirt?... into the mug before disappearing through the dividing curtain.

"Whadisit?"

"Drink up, sire," Gamling called. Already his headache was beginning to dissipate. "It is a gift from Aefre."

"A gift? From Aefre? Your lady is-" There was the sound of sputtering and spitting. "Bema! Whadaryatryintado, Willan? Poison me?"

"Drink it, sire. It will help."

"Help what? My tongue to fall off?"

Willan returned to Gamling's side of the stall, waggling fingers, signaling that he would return with towels and clothing. Again, the curtain was drawn to the side and the large man absconded through it.

"Béma, this is awful!" More sounds of spitting.

"Drink it, Éomer. It will help." The Marshal shook his head and with a great, personal show of bravery, gulped the remainder of the disgusting potion down in a single swallow. He grimaced as the liquid slid into his gullet and reached overhead, behind him, eyes closed, to place the mug on the shelf that normally resided behind the bath troughs.

The goblet crashed to the ground, bouncing once before the sound of shattered earthenware echoed loudly.

"Now, you did it!" Éomer's voice was peevish. "Breaking valuable stemware. You will be drawn and quartered at dawn."

"Shaddup."

"Talkin' like that to your king." Éomer's voice echoed in his mug. "Disgraceful."

Gamling was fishing for the soap; found it very near to his more manly parts. He resisted the urge to squeak when he grabbed more than the soap and proceeded to scrub skin he could see. "No, sire. What was disgraceful was the way you flirted with Ballard's twin daughters when you couldn't stand up straight."

"I did not flirt with them." There was the sound of a second mug hitting the stone floor and not faring any better than Gamling's mug had.

"Looks like I'll have company being drawn and quartered." Gamling's voice was droll. "It was good knowing you, sir."

"Shaddup." There was a quiet moment. "I didn't flirt with them, did I?"

The sudsy cloth was making its way beneath Gamling's arms. The scent of sandalwood was strong and Gamling thought to thank Aefre for not sending down something... pink or floral smelling.

_***Éomer would never let me live it down... me getting married smelling like a woman's garden...***_

"You know what? I think I did flirt with them."

Gamling sank lower in the water, hoping to hide his smile. In truth, he didn't remember Éomer flirting with anyone; he simply said it to irk his king.

Ballard, the owner of The Frisky Shield Maiden, had really ugly twin daughters.

Ugly.

Really ugly.

Nanléohtian and Bicce

Really... really ...

_U-G-L -Y, you ain't got no alibi_

_You ugly, oh oh, you ugly_

_M-A-M-A how you think you got that way_

_Your Mama...._

...ugly.

"Oh Bema! I did." Éomer's voice was strangled. "I remember it. Bema, I'm going to be sick."

"Don't get sick in your bath water." Gamling had finished with the soap and had allowed it to sink back to the bottom of the bath trough. He reached for the still floating vial and uncorked it.

_***pleasepleaseplease don't smell like.... ah...pine... thankyouthankyou thankyou...***_

"They tried to ... service me in a back hall."

Gamling’s hand stopped in mid-rise.

"Uhm... sire... there are some things I don't need to know."

Éomer continued anyway, sheer disbelief creeping into his voice.

"They did. Both of them! It's ... it's a nightmare!"

Gamling rolled his eyes and foregoing the small pail to wet his hair, pressed his thumb over the opening of the vial and slid under the water.

_***how long can I stay under? I can hold my breath a good... oh thirty... forty...I have fabulous lungs and I really don't want to hear damn those sisters are ugly I don't care how drunk or how desperate a man is oh damn I’ll be as blue as Éomer's balls if I try to hold my breath that long maybe he'll be done by now..._

Gamling came up gasping, trying not to be heard.

"-the really, really fat one? The one that thinks she's thin? She's got no boobs! I don't mind small boobs, but what she’s got sag and they-"

Gamling slid under again.

_***Damn, I wasn't even up long enough to get my hair lathered. This does not bode well. Dammit, a man should have some peace and quiet the morning he gets married. Béma knows I'll never know another moment's peace again. Maybe he'll be done-***_

Gamling rose above the surface again, rivulets of water streaming down his face and beard. Éomer was still whining. Trying not to pay attention, the Marshal poured an enormous amount of thick liquid from the vial and proceeded to lather his hair as fast as possible.

"The other one? The thinner one with the horse teeth? She had this bar thing pierced in her belly! And the fat one was sucking on my-"

Gamling went under again.

_***dammitdammitdammit that wasn't long enough to do anything. I'll just have to tell him to be quiet, stupid fool to be servicing those two horrors, going to make me lose my nerve tonight-***_

Again, Gamling rose to the surface and poured liquid into his hair.

"Oh Béma, thank you, it's still there!" Éomer sounded truly relieved, the sound of swishing water coming from the stall. "I swear, I'll never, ever -"

"Sire?"

"Yes?" He sounded truly distracted.

"Be quiet. I have to put my Horse Lord to work tonight and you are scaring him to the point where he won't come out of the barn stall!"

Silence.

"What a nightmare."

_***You better pray it was...***_

It was quiet while the two washed and lathered, one looking forward to the night and the other praying the previous night hadn't happened. Willan showed up in time, with towels and a pail of fresh hot water for both men to rinse their hair in.

"Sire, you don't have to go to mine and Aefre's wedding. Our guests are much more important. Why don't you just stay here and -"

The curtain was thrown back, Éomer standing, a towel wrapped low about his hips. "I would be remiss as your king and as your friend, if I did not say the words blessing your marriage."

"You don't have to say anything-"

"I do have to say anything!" Éomer was glowering, his legendary temper barely held in check. He shook his head, vexed. "I mean something. I do have to say something! Are you done? Fine! Here!" He grabbed the towel from Willan and held it out, looking Gamling sternly in the eye. "As the highest ranking lord in Edoras, it is my right." Éomer's voice was softer, but commanding. "You are the closest thing I have to a male relative, and I hope you feel the same of me." The towel was taken from him and Éomer looked at the man who had taught him as a young squire and Rider. "It will be a privilege to be there. I wouldn't miss it for all the High Elves of Middle Earth."

Gamling was tying the towel around his waist and held his hand out for another. It was a rare treat to have such niceties and who knew when the next time would be.

_***probably when they are preparing me for burial and I won't be aware of the luxury!***_

Éomer was right and he had a point. This was an argument Gamling wouldn't win and deep down, he really didn't want to.

"We just want something simple. Quiet."

"Dignified?"

Gamling nodded.

"That's a load of horse shite." Éomer's face split into a grin. "You only get married once, old man. It is my duty and honor to make sure it's done right!"

_***ooooooh nooooooooo...***_

***

Gamling thought he was above desiring creature comforts. He had been on campaign, had slept in his saddle, spent many a night on cold ground with nothing between him and the chill of the rock save his cloak.

_***Béma, how did she survive in such a small room?***_

Granted, Aefre's former chambers were full - full of his sisters, his mother, his nieces and nephews, one lone brother-in-law.

_***one lost on Pelennor Fields, one lost last year to Dunlendings, one still in Minas Tirith, injured...bring him home to Sulis...***_

He had barely gotten his leggings and a shirt made of fine bleached linen on before the door banged open and family rushed into the room.

One would think he had never dressed himself before, the way they carried on.

"Have you cleaned your teeth?" Maida asked snidely. Gamling bared his teeth in a hideous grin. "Great Béma, please tell me you don't make that face at her!"

"Did you wash under your arms? The other... well you know-"

"Between your toes? There is nothing worse than nasty toe shi-"

“Are you going to trim your beard? It's scraggly and the last thing you want-"

"Where did you learn to plait a warrior braid? Take that down, it's crooked and it’s-"

"This is your wedding wreath? There are hardly any flowers in it!"

"You have your mark? Your sword? Are you going to use that dagger? Béma, Gamling, it looks as if you've killed things with it! Have you sent anyone to saddle Dréogan and Adenydd?"

"Gamling, you can't be serious! I know the shoemaker made you new boots! These things are worn and have sawdust-"

After much snarling and growling, Gamling finally chased his family out, leaving him with alone with his mother. For not the first time, he pulled his hair out of the half-done braid he was fighting with.

"May I?"

It was not often his mother asked, and even less often such asking was done softly and with reverence.

"I'm lousy at this. Please?"

Gamling closed his eyes, enjoying a gentle touch he had long forgotten. His head nodded with the pull and give. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hold this. Don't look." Something heavy and round fell into the palm of his hand, "You never could braid your hair straight. One wonders how you managed to plait your stallion's tail."

"I could see it."

The pulling and twisting went on for a moment or two.

"This dagger was Da's."

"I know. It will be a fine marriage gift to give to Aefre."

Finally -

"Gamling. Look at what you are holding."

Gamling opened his eyes, to inspect the hair clasp in his hand. It was of beaten pewter, the insignia of Rohan along with that of his house-"

"This was Da's."

"Aye."

Gamling looked at his mother. "He was wearing this when we buried him."

"I removed it the night before." She lifted it solemnly from the palm of Gamling's hand. "He wore this the day we formally married. Wore it for every formal occasion we attended - Éomund's wedding, do you remember going to Éomer's birth presentation? He wore it then. He wore it when you earned your first Rider's cloak and when you were pronounced and raised Captain." Aelwydd tied the bottom of the braid and secured the clasp at the bottom. "His father wore it and his father had it made for his wedding. It was your father's wish it be passed to you. I should have done it sooner."

Gamling turned and stood, looking down at the woman who had birthed him. "Today was a perfect day to give it to me. Thank you."

Aelwydd was not quite done. Looking down, she reached and grasped both of her son's hands. "There are customs tonight that are to be adhered to."

"I know about wrapping Aefre in my cloak. I will make sure the door is unlatched in the morning so someone will see."

Aelwydd was still staring at the floor. "There are others."

Gamling's eyebrows knit together in frustration. "Do not tell me our bedding will be public."

Aelwydd's scowl matched her son's. "That's disgusting. Only a Dunlending would be so crass!" She swore under her breath. "It's about Aefre." Gamling waited for her to continue. "Aefre's hair is done up."

"Done... up?"

"Yes, it's tradition. It is done up with pins and ribbons. Many are hers, her mother's and her father's mother. I have given her several of mine. Your sisters have given her one each; there is one from your father's mother."

"A lot of pins and ribbons in her hair." Gamling thought back to the weddings he had attended in the past. The bride's hair was always piled on her head, bejeweled and sparkling. "That will take time taking it down."

"Exactly." Aelwydd finally looked up, smiling. "You are to take it down. It is a calming ritual, for both of you, so do not rush through it. A wedding night is special, sacred. I know this is not your first time together, but it is your first as husband and wife." She squeezed his hands, tight, firmly. "As you take it down, pay close attention to the pins. Any pin that has a hair caught in it, give it to Aefre."

"Any particular reason?"

Aelwydd's smile became bigger. "She will tell you when you finish." She rose on her toes and kissed him gently on a rugged cheek. "You've grown into a revered Rider, but most important, a fine man. I couldn't be more proud and I know your father would be as well. You have chosen well, Gamling. She will be good for you and to you. I am pleased." Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Mother, did you cry at your daughter's weddings?"

"Bawled like a baby! Don't scowl so. I'll be that bad by the time we get outside." She pointed to the table where he had been sitting. "You better get your wreath."

Gamling grimaced, refusing to pick up the garland. "Do I have to wear it?"

Aelwydd reached around and picked it up. "You are lucky. Aefre specifically requested that you have much greenery and very little floral. She said the green would better suit your hair than pink roses! So stop your griping." She placed it on his brow. "You look very..."

"Like I'm getting married?"

Aelwydd nodded.

Gamling looked towards the door before looking back at his mother. "Do... do we have a few minutes?"

"No one is banging at the door yet. I would say we do."

He nodded, looking around the room. It was bare, nothing left but the bare furniture, no personal effects, no mirror, nothing of Aefre left in it. Slowly, he removed his bridal garland.

"Would you trim my beard?" 

*****


	39. 38 - My Big, Fat, Rohirrim Wedding

__

Rider of the Mark 38 

__

My Big, Fat Rohirrim Wedding 

***  


  
"Three times round, Once for the Daughter, Twice for the Crone, Thrice for the Mother, who sits on the throne." 

*** 

Dréogan was not happy.

Gamling didn't blame him.

The war stallion had been fully dressed out in flowers and greenery. His mane and his tail were braided and ribbanded. His saddle was bedecked with garlands of pale pink roses and peonies.

He was almost as pretty as Adenydd.

_***Why don't you just drape a 'Just Married' sign over his rump and be done with it...***_

Adenydd was very taken with her ribbands and flowers. She kept looking back, nosing at the pretties. Twice, Haleth tried to distract her with apples, before brightening and reaching into his pocket for a carrot.

Abéodan was holding the stallion's bridle, close to the bit, struggling to keep Gamling's horse from pulling at the garland. Several times, the warhorse took hard nips at the Rohirrim, who looked as uncomfortable as the horse. Gamling walked up close to the young Rider and whispered in his ear, "Who?"

"Not me! I wouldn't do this to him!" Abéodan hissed. "Or to you! I think Haleth and Cynn's apprentice went a bit far."

"Get rid of them."

Abéodan had the grace to blush. "No time. Here comes your bride."

Gamling turned to realize he was forced to peer through a sudden crowd of people. His mother, 

_***crying, as promised...***_

His sisters, the one brother in law, trying hard not to limp, his nephews...

"Aefre isn't in this group," Gamling spat over his shoulder. "You have time-"

"I was threatened on pain of death," the young Éorling hissed back. "I think I did well, considering as they tried to put a side-saddle on Lady Aefre's horse! Adenydd wasn't having none of it!" He was treated to the visage of a Gamling-glare. 

"You have time-"

"Begging your pardon, but despite the respect I have for you, and fear your wrath, I'm terrified of your mother!"

"My mother ordered this?" Gamling's voice had lowered to a barely audible hiss.

"Actually, no." The two were interrupted by a familiar voice. Éomer was leading his own horse from the stable. "The order came from me, and your mother, Béma love the woman, delivered the message to - ah, here comes your bride!" Gamling's turned to see Aefre come down the steps of the Golden Hall, accompanied by Éowyn, Eadignes, and...

And who else didn't matter. He saw nothing, but Aefre.

Aefre, in the ice blue he had brought from Gondor, with a mantle of red and purple. It was trimmed with gold beads; true to his mother's words, her hair was done up, gold and multi-colored jewels glinting in the sunlight. Her floral bridal wreath sat on her head, like a crown, unlike his, which insisted on sitting cocked sideways.

He only saw her smile.

_***beautiful, beautiful Aefre...***_

He couldn't breathe, had forgotten how; she was there, next to him. One hand raised, an elegant finger drawing a red lock over his shoulder. "Good morrow, Gamling. You are well dressed for such an early morning ride."

There was no sound, not even birdsong. He hadn't taken a breath.

"I see you've saddled my horse. Are we going for a ride?"

Gamling still wasn’t breathing. He was too busy taking all of her in...

_***minemineminemineminemineminesweetsweet thing...***_

“Have I grown a second head?”

In the recesses of his mind, he remembered this was a portion of the ceremony, part of the role he was to play. He could feel the gentle stroke of her finger on the rim of his ear. He blinked rapidly, hoping, praying to Béma, he wouldn't stumble over his part.

"I would take you somewhere special. Would you ride a ways with me?"

Aefre's eyes lowered, demurely; certainly not shy, not his Aefre, not his-

"With all these friends in attendance?"

"Unfortunately.” Gamling shrugged, as if he had no choice. “ They insisted."

Aefre leaned forward, as if to speak only to him. "I would be honored. Might I have a foot up? These skirts are a mite cumbersome."

“Is it far?” one of the little ones piped up. “My butt hurts if I ride too long.”

“I need to pee.”

Somewhere, somehow, he managed to step to her horse's side, his hands cupped to receive her leather - clad foot. As she lifted her skirts and swung into the saddle, a breeze whipped by, Gamling's cloak billowing and causing her skirts to rise high, exposing shapely, firm calves...

_***Daaaa...***_

_I will be the breeze..._

Aefre lowered herself, settling her skirts about her. "Bothersome, all this frippery."

"Better you, than m-"

_***oops. did I say that out loud?***_

"What was that?"

Gamling looked up with a wide grin. "I said beautiful. You look beautiful."

_***she's blushing and Gamling makes a comeback!!!! YES! Who's the Rider... who is the Rider!!!!***_

Horses parted, a path made, the couple and their entourage picking their way to the gates. Gamling lost count of the number of townsmen and women, at their doors, in front, sweeping the rock road in front of them. Children threw flowers onto the roads.

_Good morrow to you..._

_May fortune light your path..._

The pace of the party picked up after they went through the gates and down onto the plains. Both bride and groom were aware of the chittering going on behind them.

"They go this way first-" Éomer was spinning his finger in a circle, "and then I pronounce them-"

"No, no! You dolt!" Aelwydd was spitting. "The other way. Sun wise at first. They don't go counter-sun wise until you've pronounced them husband and wife!"

Gamling shook his head and leaned over towards Aefre. "If we put the spurs to our horses, no one will be able to catch us. We can beat them to the glade and by the time they reach it, I will have you well beneath me and wrapped in my cloak!"

He was met with a humored, but non-bendable glare.

_***It was a thought...***_

They rode quietly, listening to the terse instruction Gamling's mother was giving Éomer and the king's even shorter-tempered responses. 

"Gamling, do you think they will kill each other before we reach the glade?"

"If Béma is gracious."

"GAMLING!"

All talking behind them came to a momentary stop, before continuing at a lower pitch. Gamling looked at her sideways, his bridal garland tilted at a rakish angle and a boyish grin gracing craggy features-

“Are we there yet? I _really_ need to pee!”

"BOY! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT IT?" Aelwydd's voice carried over the plains and over her grandchildren’s whinings. "I swear, you are as hard-headed as your da! And yes, I knew him well!"

Aefre's eyebrows shot to her hairline. "By all that is holy-"

"I'll not apologize." Gamling's eyes were now roaming the countryside, scouring for the glade - 

\- and Orcs and Mountain Men. Old habits die hard and the Rider suspected that this was one habit that would never fade.

***  


  
I humbly ask the attendance of the Elementals of life.

*** 

"You really look beautiful."

It came from nowhere, caught Aefre by surprise. They had been traveling now in almost silence - well, as silent as Aelwydd and Éomer would let them be. Occasionally, they would hear Éowyn laugh; Éomer admitted to Gamling the night before, his sister now laughed more than he could remember since she allowed 'that Gondorian princeling' near her. Arwen and Elrond were somewhere in the small entourage, as was Imrahil and Lothiriel, invited by Aefre.

"I really _look_ beautiful?"

Gamling sniffed, almost insulted. "I mean, I think you're beautiful all the time, but-" He stopped in mid-sentence seeing the humorous smile on his bride's face and he realized she was teasing with him.

_***See if I try to compliment you again...***_

"You look... very nice." Aefre whispered. Gamling could tell the admission had been difficult, but heart-felt.

_***Hah! Two can play that game!***_

"Thank you." It was stiff, but Aefre could see the smile on his face.

“I see your are wearing my ribband.” This was true. Gamling had carefully washed the ribband she gave him when he left for Gondor and had tied it around his bicep. Gamling grunted in response. “That one is rather worn, I would have given you a new one.”

“This one is fine.”

Aefre had the feeling he was rather attached to that particular ribband and nothing else would have mattered. She continued on. "You trimmed your beard."

"Yeah," he admitted dryly, "I'm told I clean up nice."

"It gives you a different look," she admitted quietly. After thinking for a moment, Aefre drew her mount up against his, her skirt clad legs brushing against his. "Can I tell you a secret?" She was leaning as close as possible.

Gamling leaned over, attempting to whisper in her ear. "What?"

"I like you scruffy and sweaty from the barn." Gamling jerked upwards, shocked at the admission, but before he could respond, Aefre continued. "It makes you smell earthy and I just want to bathe you and lick you dry!"

_***Forget the ceremony! MOTHER! You've caught us in my cloak, right?...***_

"How much further is this glade?" Gamling's youngest nephew groused loudly. "My legs are sore and my butt hurts!"

"I'm hungry." The youngest niece piped up. "Wanna eat now."

"Are we there yet?"

"Stop your whining!" Aglaeca retorted hotly. "You're to be a Rider of Rohan! And you too!" he snipped at the little one, causing her to recoil on the little pony she was riding. "Béma made you stronger than that!"

"Your butt, maybe-"

"Mama? Are we there yet?"

***  


  
Welcome, O powers of Air! With clever fingers weave tightly the bonds of Heart, Spirit and Love between these two! Let none undo the fabric of their love! 

*** 

Somehow, they made it to the glade without Éomer drawing and quartering Gamling's mother and Gamling's mother not laying out the King of Rohan. Gamling imagined he heard a sigh of relief from the party of riders when the glade came into view, from the children, especially. As the group dismounted, loosely tying reins, they made their way into the glade, Gamling holding tightly to his bride's fingers -

"I won't run. You can loosen your grip!"

"Oh. Sorry."

\- and the children of Sulis running ahead of the couple, throwing the customary flowers on their path. It was obvious they had been coached very carefully, and they took their duties very seriously, one going as far as to use the toe of her shoe to push flowers exactly where she wanted them!

Éomer managed to call the Elementals of Life, without much prodding or correction. 

Much.

Then again, it was still early in the ceremony.

Haleth was part of the ceremony; Gamling quietly insisting he be considered family. Truth be told, Aefre was equally prepared to argue for the almost teen, determined he was part of her family. Haleth held a lit censer, waving the smoking incense around, when a breeze picked up, causing the smoke to flair up and making Aelwydd sneeze loudly. He blushed as he called to the Elemental of Air.

_***Daaaaaaa...***_

_***I AM the Air...***_

It took several nods of the head and a finger point or two before he figured out where East was in order to set the bowl in its proper place. Once it was placed, Beornia, Sulis, and Maida had no difficulty placing their objects around the glade. A candle lit for Fire, (Haleth blushed even more furiously at the call for that Elemental!) a bowl for Water, a potted late-blooming daffodil for Earth. All were invited. 

***  


  
Welcome, O powers of Fire! Ignite the Passion and the Love for this blessed pair. Ever burning, yet never consuming one or the other!

*** 

Éomer's invocation began serious and solemn -

"Gracious Béma, Grant this blessed pair thy love and protection. We gather here this day in a ritual of love. Aefre of the Wold, and Gamling of the Westemnet, stand here before your friends, the elements, and your King to join together as the beginning of a family. For before there can be three, there must be two."

_"Do you think anyone told him?" Beornia whispered to her mother._

_"Béma, no!" Aelwydd spat, continuing to hold her skirts down - damn this wind! "Aefre will be giving birth before he figures it out!"_

\- but quickly turned humorous as he commanded them to not only love one another, but to love one another often enough to fill Edoras with screeching and love howls and to let everyone think that Gamling, even in his decrepit old age, was the most spectacular rutting beast in the Riddermark; next to the King, of course, and to do their duty of filling the hall with Horse Lords and Shield Toddlers.

If anyone noticed the Groom and the Bride staring at the ground, biting lips, no one ever said a word.

***  


  
Welcome, O powers of Water! Bless this couple with a love as deep as any ocean! May richness of body, of soul and of spirit be theirs ever more! 

*** 

When the stories were recounted that day, by those who attended the union, it would be said to the last soul, that all were shocked at how quiet and soft-spoken Aefre was. All had to lean closely to hear her vows, while Gamling, normally, a quiet man, who carefully chose every word that came from his mouth, and was not known to bellow, was strong and forceful. His voice carried to the treetops and there was no doubt, from the King of Rohan, to the sparrow, flying overhead, exactly how he felt.

He promised to worship her body. 

Aefre pulled him close and whispered in his ear. "You better."

Only Éomer heard. But he told everyone in the Hall that night, after the two had retired to their chamber.

***  


  
Welcome, O powers of Earth! Bless this man, this woman with thy strength and wisdom. 

***

"What do you have to offer this woman for her love?"

Gamling had not thought hard on this one. He knew he had to present Aefre with something, a part of him that would be a symbol of his feelings. Feelings, he could cope with. It was simply talking publicly about it that made it difficult. So while he had not thought hard on what her would give her, he had thought long about how he would say it.

Publicly. In front of people.

_***Just don't think about Éomer, or Mother, or anyone else. Just talk to Aefre. Hey! She's going to let me get a word in! I'm actually going to be able to finish a sentence! Wait, that's unfair...***_

He turned to Aefre, pulling the battle-scared dagger and its sheath from his belt. As he went through the oft-rehearsed speech, his voice, starting softly, became louder and stronger. "Aefre, I offer you my love and my pledge. May I never knowingly or willingly harm or grieve you, in any form or fashion. Accept my battle dagger as a token of my trust. Like its blade, may my love be as strong. Like its metal, may our love be enduring. Accept it, for what is mine, is yours."

"He's got that right," Maida's husband whispered to the stately Elf standing next to him. "Everything that's his is now hers! And everything that is hers is still hers!" He grunted when Maida's elbow gouged hard into his ribs and Elrond smiled at the eternal love of Man. 

Éomer was staring at Gamling. "I would have never believed such honeyed words could fall from your mouth," he whispered loudly. He wiped a nonexistent tear from his before placing a hand theatrically over his heart. "I am deeply moved."

"Shaddup," Gamling whispered back. 

Aefre ignored the banter between Horse Lord and King and accepted the dagger, noticing despite the care and cleanliness of the weapon, it had seen use in battle and had served its master well. "I accept your pledge and your love, as I accept your token. May I guard and serve your heart always, as this dagger has guarded and served you. Know what is in my heart, as I know what is in yours. All of my love will ever be yours."

Éomer repeated his question to Aefre. “What do you have to offer in return for the love of this man?”

Unlike Gamling, Aefre had had a difficult time coming up deciding what to offer him as a token of her pledge. She had lingered over her personal weaponry, deciding that it was not proper. She wished she had her father’s ornamental bridle, but her sister-in-law had appropriated all that had belonged to Aefre’s family and coveted it for her son. The woman had gone as far as to go through Aefre’s things when she forcibly removed Aefre from her childhood home, attempting to confiscate several items, including the wedding gift Aefre had chosen - a rare, pale blue diamond, set in a mithril chain, handed down from her grandmother.

“I present to him my love and this pledge. May I never knowingly or willingly do such a thing to harm, nor grieve him in any form or fashion. Accept this, my jewel, as a token of my trust. I value your love more than the most valuable jewel of my family. Just as its bright gleam, may our love glow. Like the stone that is its essence, may our love be as strong and enduring. Accept it, my love, for that which is mine, is yours.”

“Bull. OUCH! Stop poking me, Maida!”

Gamling leaned over, causing his bridal garland to slip over his eye, while Aefre fastened the chain around his neck. When he stood back up full, he tipped the garland back in place and took a moment to inspect the jewel. He had never been one for ‘pretties’ or ‘sparklies’, as his sisters had called them, but he was fascinated by the facets and many glimmers of light that reflected from the diamond. He could not begin to fathom the age of either jewel or chain, but he realized its worth was more than anything he would ever possess. That Aefre had given this-

“My... my love, I accept your pledge and your love, as I accept your jewel. Know what is in my heart, as I know what is in yours. All of my will, my love, shall ever be yours.”

***  


  
"With this binding I tie you, heart to heart, together as one. With this knot you are joined in sacred union. May Béma and all here, smile upon thee, and bless you with health and prosperity! May neither take advantage of the other. For remember what one may not provide, the other may! 

***

At some point, their wrists had been bound with a silken, white cord, a binding that should not be removed until Gamling had taken Aefre to their chambers and removed it with their clothing. As ancient custom older than Rohan proclaimed, he would hang it on the door, showing his acceptance of his bride, as well as signaling to his friends and family they could safely *catch* he and Aefre wrapped in his cloak.

Éomer was feeling his oats; this was not the first time he had presided over a wedding, but this was *his* friend and as promised, he refused for it to be a simple thing. He had been to Rivendell on many occasions, trading with the Elves and he was fascinated by their jewelry, most especially, their betrothal and bridal rings. Over the years, he had collected several plain, but fine pieces, and had decided this would be his gift to his friend and his new bride. "Your vows have now been heard by all. These rings, like your vows, are without beginning or end. When placed, they represent a seal of your love and respect for each other." 

“Éomer,” Gamling whispered, “this is really too much.”

“Shaddup. It’s a gift.” He nodded at Aefre. “Besides, she likes hers.”

Aefre was inspecting the ring Éomer was holding out for Gamling to place on her finger. The craftsmanship was exquisite and she openly admired it. “Gamling is correct. This is really too much.”

“You shaddup too. It’s a gift and I’ll be offended if you give them back.”

“Really, Éomer-”

The King of Rohan raised a single finger to shush the woman. “If you do not accept this gift, I’ll force you to spend a season in Belfalas, by the sea, doing nothing, but dancing attendance on the Royal Family. Nothing but talk and needlework.”

Aefre shuddered.

“And no horses.”

Gamling gagged.

“The rings are beautiful.”

“Thank you, sire. Your generosity is-”

“Abundant and overwhelming,” Éomer grinned, cheekily. “I’m so pleased you think so.”

_***Brat! Just wait until it’s your turn...***_

Éomer shoved the ring at Gamling. “Come on. You know what to say!”

With a frown, Gamling snatched the ring from Éomer’s fingertips. Grabbing Aefre’s hand, he placed the ring on her middle finger. “ Aefre, you are my wife. You were not created from my head to out think me. You were not made from the sole of my foot to be trod on by me. You were made from my rib over my heart to be held close, side by side, and to be tucked under my arm to be protected by me and to be cherished! I will respect you as an equal partner and seek your counsel, for you are wise. I will protect you, argue with you, and listen to you, for I know you love me.”

Éomer was much gentler with Aefre. “Gamling, you are my husband. I was created from your rib, over your heart, to stand with you, side by side. You will be the head of our household, the father of our children and the king of our holdings. I will comfort you and bind your wounds, see to your needs and respect you as an equal partner and seek your counsel, for you are wise. I will honor you, argue with you, and listen to you, for I know you love me.”

***  


  
We thank the elementals of life for their attendance this day and ask they go forth and herald this union. 

***

Traditional Rohirrim customs were adhered to on this bright morning; they shared their first drink from what they discovered was the King’s own chalice - Éomer was showing his favor on this union, indeed - exquisitely wrought silver, Rohan’s standard finely etched on it.

_May you never thirst._

They shared their first meal; honeyed bread, still warm from the kitchens of Edoras.

_May you never hunger._

They jumped not only the sword, but the broom together.

_May the sword cut all ties with the old and the broom sweep them away._

Éomer raised his sword and headed towards the eastern corner of the glade.

“Nonononono!” Aelwydd hissed. “North!” Her finger pointed at the potted daffodil and then spun the digit counter-clockwise. “And it’s the other way!”

Éomer slowly changed direction, as calmly as possible. “I knew that.”

“Mama? Is it much longer? I’m hungry.”

“I need to pee.”

 

***  


  
Three Times Round, Once for the daughter, Twice for the crone, Thrice for the mother who sits upon the throne! 

***

“You can take a breath, you know. Or we could just wait and you can proceed with the bedding.”

Éomer’s voice was sardonic, cutting through the couple’s amorous reverie. Gamling raised his head from Aefre’s, pulling her tighter into his embrace. “You said I could kiss my bride. I’m kissing her.” He looked down at Aefre. “Where were we?”

A wide smile greeted him. “You are such a man!”

“Mama! I’m reeeeeeeeeally hungry.”

Gamling turned loose of his bride and addressed his young niece. “We will ride back quickly.”

“No, don’t worry.” Aelwydd was coming back into the glade with a large basket. Maida and Beornia carried baskets also. “I knew this was a ways out, and we would be here a while, so I had a light lunch packed.” She set the basket down and began to pull out bread and wine flasks. “This will tide us until we return to Edoras, where a fine feast awaits.”

Gamling waggled an eyebrow at Aefre.

_***Very fine feast, indeed!”_

“I know what you’re thinking.” Aefre whispered.

“Thinking of bathing me and licking me dry?”

“Come on, you two! Come and eat!”

_***grrrrrr... that’s what I want to do...***_

***

The meal was not heavy, but it satisfied the children, who had behaved as long as they could. Eyes raised and watched carefully as little ones found shrubbery and then played tag on the edges of the glade. After a time, the baskets and flasks were put away, all mounting up on their horses.

Except Aefre.

Tradition stated she was to be carried back in her new husband’s lap. Except...

“Gamling! I can not ride in your lap the entire way back!”

Gamling was scowling. “Custom dictates-”

“I really don’t give a mighty Orc’s arse what custom dictates!”

“Mama? Did Aun’ Aefre say what I think she said?”

“You never mind what your Aunt Aefre said.” Sulis was glaring at the openly battling couple. “Let me help you on your pony-”

“I don’ need help! I’m Ro-he-rum!”

“What’s a mighty Orc arse?”

Gamling rolled his eyes at his sister’s children’s antics. Béma forbid, his own child should be this difficult! “Aefre,” he started quietly, forcing a rather grim smile on his face, “it is our wedding day. Please do this for me.”

“I am doing this for you, you oaf!” Aefre smiled back, her teeth gritting in a mockingly painful grin. “Carrying me on your lap the entire way would not only cut off the circulation to your legs-”

“She might cut the circulation from your Mighty little Horse Lord.” Éomer was munching on the last of an apple. “You might want to consider it.” He moved on, out of the way of the twosome.

_***it’s not little...***_

“I still know what you’re thinking,” Aefre whispered. “And you’re right.”

Gamling raised a finger. “Don’t get me off the sub-”

“I am not riding back on your lap.” Aefre turned and whistled for Adenydd. 

Gamling grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around. “Look! The least we can do is discuss it! I have bathed for you today!”

“Oh,” both of her hands went to her hips, fisted in tight wads, “thank you for considering your hygiene today!”

Gamling didn’t take a breath. “I wore an uncomfortable dress tunic,” His finger went around the collar, pulling it out, “that is too tight around the neck and is choking me!” He tugged for extra effect. “And it has too many spangly things.”

“Those are emblems of your station!” Aefre was completely affronted. “You should be proud to wear them!”

Gamling was continuing, never taking a breath. “And a dress sword! I never have had the need for a,” and with this he pulled it out for emphasis, “ a shiny, blunt blade with jewels in the handle, making it impossible to grasp properly!” He shook it at her. “The blade is so dull, it couldn’t cut down a baby Orc.”

“Ooooh. Do you tink da baby orcses would like to pway?” Maida’s youngest daughter apparently no longer needed to go to the bathroom. Always on the lookout for a new playmate, it didn’t dawn on her that this particular playmate wasn’t desirable.

“I trimmed my beard for you!”

“Thank you.” It was said through clenched teeth.

“And new boots!” Gamling’s finger went in her face.” That pinch! And I had them shined! Just for you!” 

Aefre smacked at his wrist, knocking his hand away. “I am pleased your mother trained you so well!”

Gamling took a step back at that, snickering from the crowd behind them. “I even bathed Dréogan! He was quite pissed about that!”

Aefre’s finger went in Gamling’s face. “Don’t lie! Dréogan loves to be bathed and you know it! You bathed Adenydd too and you know she loves her baths!”

Gamling attempted to focus on the wagging finger, having great difficulty, before reaching out and grabbing it. “I polished his fastenings, as well as Adenydd’s! I even braided my hair! I went through all this for you-”

“And I endured nothing?”

“Mama?” Yet another young voice piped up. “Why are Uncle Gamling and Aunt Aefre fussing? I thought they were marry-ed?”

“That’s why they are arguing.” Maida’s husband grunted as his wife elbowed him for the fourth time.

“Weren’t you listening?” Aglaeca answered for the child’s mother. “They promised to argue with each other.” He rolled his not-quite-grownup eyes and pulled up on his horse. “They are doing just that!”

Gamling and Aefre were oblivious to the jesting going on behind them. “We’ll take turns,” Aefre half-heartedly suggested. “I’ll ride in your lap a ways, and then you can ride in mine!”

Gamling’s finger was moving in a blur. “No. I want to know what you’ve endured for me today - besides agreeing to be my wife!”

Aefre’s eyes narrowed. “You want to _know_ what I’ve endured?” Gamling shook his head. “Fine! I sat while Éowyn half pulled my hair out of my head!”

“It needed to be tight-” Éowyn tried to interject. “You don’t want it to fall down while riding or while your vows were being spoke.”

“Bad luck,” Éomer whispered to Prince Imrahil, who was watching the argument in fascination. “Wives tale is if the bride’s hair falls during the ceremony, the groom will never get it uh--” The Rohirrim King blushed when he realized Imrahil’s daughter was listening intently. “-uhp... la la la...”

Aefre’s tirade was continuing. “I had to wear this ridiculously heavy dress with more skirts than is needed for three women! Sad thing is,” she leaned forward so only Gamling could hear, “it’s the only one I have that isn’t tight in the waist! And that’s YOUR fault as well!”

“It took two of us, Aefre!”

“Your boots that pinch? My feet are swollen! And the rings and bracelets and the earrings... I make more noise than a Dunlending in orgasmic throes!”

“That’s pretty noisy,” Éomer whispered to Faramir, who was having a difficult time keeping a straight face. The normally reticent Gondorian was very red in the face and his shoulders were shaking.

“Save me,” he whispered to the blonde head tucked under his arm.

“Not on your life!” Éowyn grinned. She looked across the chest of her lover, towards her brother. “Eight!”

Éomer nodded. “Eight. Who should be next?”

***

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Aefre was grumbling and had been for the last five minutes. “This is damned uncomfortable and I know it’s hurting your legs!” She was sitting across his lap, Adenydd tied to the back of Dréogan’s saddle. Both horses had finally given up on eating their finery.

For now.

Gamling sighed, a comical, theatrical thing from him. “Edoras is over the rise. We compromised, remember? You were to ride Adenydd until we were within half an hour of Meduseld, and then you would ride my lap. That way -”

“I know, I know, I know! That way, it would look to the people that we had fulfilled customs’s dictates, without-” Gamling’s hand stole from her waist to a full breast. “Gamling! Get your hands off my-”

He took advantage of her open mouth. “Mine!” he whispered, descending in a kiss that made Aefre’s toes curl. 

“I believe he has found a way to hush her up.” Éomer leaned over towards Imrahil. “I’ll make note!” He completely missed the look of indignation from Imrahil’s daughter.

The newly married couple were still arguing. “Well, if we are close enough for me to ride in your lap, we are close enough for you to put your bridal wreath back on!” Said wreath dangled on Aefre’s finger. It had been part of the ‘compromise’ between the couple; she could ride her horse as long as he could remove the garland. Much to the consternation of Aelwydd, they had removed the bridal rope, each holding an end, retying it to their wrists when Aefre mounted Dréogan.

“That thing drives me insane.”

“Well, now you know how I feel riding in your lap!”

“Kiss her again!” Multiple cheers came from behind them, causing both bride and groom to scowl at the party behind them. With a snarl, Gamling snatched the bridal wreath from Aefre and slapped it on his head, causing greenery fronds to fly over the fields.

“You’ll have nothing left if you continue that!” Aefre’s own garland rested gently on her head, her hair still up, with only a few well placed ringlets about her ears and neck.

Cheering from far off greeted their ears. Edoras was now well in sight.

“Urgh.”

_***Now the part I am going to hate...***_

***

There was dancing, lots of it. There were demands of Gamling to dance with his bride, something they both refused. Éomer decided to dance with Aefre, an amusing thing to watch, as Gamling was tied to her wrist. A minstrel was strolling around the room, his lute plucking obscure tunes, most of the fluffy and romantic persuasion that had women sighing, and men getting drunker and drunker. Gamling watched Éomer dance with Imrahil’s daughter-

_***What is her name again? Loth-i-ree... Lottie - loo... ***_

\- and then dance with Eadignes, dance with his sister, dance with all of Gamling’s sisters. Gamling thought he would crawl under the table, when the King of Rohan danced Aelwydd. Gamling had never seen his mother move and wiggle in that manner.

It was obscene. A woman her age carrying on like that.

There was pounding on the tables with tankards with demands for kisses, which were always met. Gamling made sure his ale was well-watered; he did not want a repeat of the previous night! Aefre was drinking sparsely as well.

There was food, and more food, and two Elves that looked identical sang for the couple; it made Aefre sigh contentedly, but Gamling couldn’t understand a word. He just smiled and nodded and applauded at the song’s end.

He noticed several times Elrond staring at him thoughtfully.

Twice, he thought he heard the echo of a woman’s voice in his head -

_You have chosen well, Master Horse Lord..._

\- only to look up to see the Lady Galadriel staring at him intently. The depth of her eyes could clearly be seen across the room and it unnerved him in a way he would never admit to even Aefre. Both times, he set his goblet down and found somewhere to look.

Several times, a man, Horse Lord, Gondorian, Swan Guard, it mattered not, or an Elf, would whisper in his ear; encouragement, crass suggestions. Éothain was in his element that night with bawdy acts recently learned in the Blue Whale; Éomer was no better. The Elves suggested things that made sex sound like a twisted piece of bread, paining Gamling’s joints just thinking about them. Imrahil, Elrond, and even Celeborn -

_***who would believe such a revered Elf was such a perverted old coot?***_

\- had comments and suggestions.

_***Do they think I’m a untried youth???***_

At some point, he realized that Aefre’s movements were becoming heavier and slower. When he looked down, he saw she was flushed and her eyes were fatigued. Taking her hand in his, he leaned down and whispered, “You are tired.”

“A little.” She dipped her head. “It is rather hot, as well.” 

He nodded towards the bard, calling him over. “Go to the far side and play something bawdy. Poke fun at Éomer or Faramir.” The bard smiled knowingly, grimacing quickly, when Gamling grabbed his arm, none to gently. “Do not bring attention to my bride and myself. I will hunt you down.” The musician smiled nervously.

“Of course, my lord. You wish your privacy.”

They watched as the thin, young man strolled over to Éomer, strumming away. He opened his mouth...  
 __  
He wears his silk pyjamas in the summer when it’s hot,  
he wears a woolen nightshirt in the winter when it’s not,  
But later in the Springtime and early in the Fall,  
Éomer King jumps into bed with nothing on at all...

Éomer’s jaw dropped and cheers went up. While everyone’s attention was on the reddening sovereign, Gamling grabbed Aefre’s hand and quietly snuck out of the over - heated and stifling room. He nodded to Willan, who winked and began to stroll over to the doorway, arms crossed. Willan had danced several times with Eadignes, a light in both’s eyes, Gamling well knew and hoped would bloom into more.

No sooner than the twosome had turned the corner and began to move down the hall, a shout went up, demanding where the bridal pair had gone. Chairs could be heard scrapping back and Gamling tugged at Aefre’s hand. “Run!”

They barely made it to their chamber - finally their chamber - slamming the door. Gamling leaned into it, feeling the thick brace of wood bounce and shudder as his friends pounded it. Aefre lowered the bar and between the two, they managed to bar it from any invaders.

“Aw, c’mon Gamling!” Éomer’s voice was clearly slurred. He would awake in the morning with a hangover worse than this morning’s and this time, Gamling would refuse any aid to the king. “Wuh jus’ wanna say g’nite!”

“Good-night, sire.” Aefre spoke to the door, before slipping off the bridal rope, leaving it dangling from Gamling’s wrist and moving away, abandoning Gamling to deal with the drunken rabble outside.

“We wanna see t’bride!”

_***where is Willan?...***_

“You’ve seen the bride. Good night, m’lord.” Gamling’s forehead was resting against the cool wood. Several more times, it jolted, heavy fists pounding, before the occasional yelp and body slam announced that Willan had finally arrived and was clearing the hall. Finally, it was quiet and there was a gentle scratching at the door.

“Go enjoy yourself, my friend.” There was an answering scratch. “Go gentle with her.” Again, an answering scratch. With a dip of his head, he removed the white cord from his wrist, left dangling by Aefre and dropped it on the bar. It would be easy to find early in the morning when he was forced to crawl from the bed and hang it on the front latch.

Gamling turned away from the door, noticing the seemingly hundreds of candles lit all over the room. It cast a wondrous glow about the chambers, the bed turned down.

Aefre was sitting before the cold hearth, skirts pooled about the floor. She looked exhausted, but content. She smiled up at him. “Good evening, m’lord husband. What would be your pleasure tonight?”

_***Husband... sounds sooooo good...***_

Gamling dragged his chair over by her and said the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Look at what Béma left for me.” He tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it. “A rare flower of infinite beauty.”  
 __  
***  
tbc  
***  


Aefre's wedding dress

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/ZeeDippyVessel/media/Fic%20Artwork/Aefreinherweddingdress.jpg.html)


	40. 39 - With this Cloak...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Warning: This is a wedding night. Nothing more, nothing less. It does NOTHING to forward the plot. It's sex, pure and simple. If that doesn't interest you, wait for the next chapter. If it DOES interest you... well, get your towel... or your mop...

**_Rider Of The Mark_**

Chapter 39

With this cloak...

***

The door clicked shut behind him; truth be told, Gamling and Aefre had to push it shut, his rowdy and drunk so-called friends on the other side, shouting encouragement and ribald comments. She dropped the bar, ensuring that no one would disturb the twosome until he and Aefre were damn well good and ready to be disturbed.

He wasn't so sure he would let anyone in tomorrow. Cloak be damned!

Gamling removed the white cord from his wrist, its ends dangling loosely and draped it over the bar before turning back to look at the figure seated in the corner. Aefre was the very picture of serenity; sitting on a low stool, with her hands folded demurely in her lap. The room was bathed in candlelight; seemingly hundreds of small candles flickered from every available spot in the room. She watched him as he pulled off his boots-

_***damnthingstootight...aaaaah...muchbetter...***_

-before making his way towards her. Seeing he had nowhere to sit, he dragged his chair over by hers.

"Look at what Béma left for me." He slid a finger under her chin and lifted it so she looked at him directly. "A rare flower of infinite beauty."

"And what other silly, floral thing did Éothain and Éomer tell you to tell me?" Aefre asked him with a grin.

"Actually," Gamling sank into the chair before her, "Imrahil, the Prince of Dol Amroth, suggested that. Éothain suggested..." he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

Aefre's jaw dropped. "That's... that's disgusting!"

"No." Gamling was smiling. "What Éomer suggested was disgusting!"

Aefre squeaked. "I do not wish to know-"

"No, you do not." He reached up, fingers grazing the neckline of her dress. Gently, he grasped her neck and pulled her forward, whispering again in her ear.

Aefre's eyes flew open in shock, her legs pulling together. "That's... that's... Béma!" Her eyes glanced as his groin before jerking upwards. "You're too big! How is one supposed to-"

"It was suggested we use a great deal of ... oil." A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth, his thumb stroking the lobe of her ear. "Or spit."

Aefre's jaw was flapping with indignation. "Why... why... you can sleep in the barn, if you wish-"

She was silenced with his kiss. "No," he whispered against her mouth, "I'll not ask that. Besides," Very lightly, his hand continued its path, stroking her shoulder and down her arm, "if you demoted me to the barn this early in our marriage, someone else would attempt to take my place in your bed and I'd be quite angry to find my wife wrapped in someone else's cloak." He fingered the gold embroidery on the edge of her surcoat, admiring how the folds cleverly hid her thickening waistline. "Not after I had waited so long to find her." He stood, pulling her to her feet and slid both hands under the flowing over - garment. "I recognize the red, but where did you come by the purple?" He pushed backwards, removing the garment and watched it fall heavily to the floor.

"It was my grandmother's. She wore it at her wedding and my mother wore it at hers."

Gamling was now fingering the neckline of the blue silk. "And should this child be a girl, she will wear it to hers."

"If it lasts. The material is aging and very delicate." Aefre placed her hands on Gamling's shoulders, plucking at the clasps that held his cloak in place. She started to pull it around, but Gamling grabbed her fingers.

"Let it fall." The heavy cloak fell to the floor with an onerous whisper. His hands dropped her fingers, large palms now cradling her neck, his thumbs circling and stroking the soft flesh beneath her ears.

" Ga-"

"Don't speak." He studied her face, an inspection akin to that long ago morning in Dunharrow. His eyelids were heavy, long, fair lashes, dusting permanently wind-kissed cheeks. "You look tired."

"I don't wish to sleep."

His humorous snort was nearly silent and he rested his forehead against hers. "You need to sleep. We will sleep in Aldburg tomorrow, but after that, we will camp. It will be a slow, tedious ride. Speaking of-"

"Don't ask me to ride in the cart." While Gamling was shocked at the pleading in her voice, he did not show it. "I couldn't bear it."

He pressed his forehead into hers, almost painful in the pressure. "You'll not be able to ride back."

"We will cross that river when we get to it." Foreheads still pressed together, Aefre looked up at him, endearingly cross-eyed. "Please?" 

The affirmative scowl was grudging. Gamling knew she would win this skirmish; he was willing to concede that little bit, however, he was determined she would not win the return battle.

She was still looking up at him, brown eyes, deeper than anything he had ever experienced, still entreating. "You may ride to Gondor; however we will discuss your return travel arrangements before we leave."

_***There! That should appease her... I hope...***_

Gamling was toying with the edge of her dress and with a nudge to her shoulder, he had her turn around. Calloused fingers found the ties, tucked and hidden inside the neckline of the dress and the ties of the strip of cloth that bound her breasts. With a gentle push, the final layers of her clothing slid to the floor, baring her to him.

Almost.

"When?" He nodded downwards, towards the lacy smallclothes she was wearing.

"You mother thinks it's scandalous that I wear nothing under my clothes."

He found the tie quickly and began to pluck at it. It came loose easily and followed her wedding finery to the floor. "I'm glad you don't mess with such." Gamling's hands encircled her waist, dipping down to the generous hips, pulling her closer. "Less I have to contend with," he whispered in her ear. With a gentle inhalation -

_***appleappleapples***_

\- he took a step back and looked down at all of her.

He did not make note of the thickened waistline, hips that were beginning to widen, nor darkening areolas. Instead he touched satin skin, was riveted to a coiled braid of deep mahogany. With infinite patience, patience he was not aware that he had, his hands raised, going into the coil, and slowly began to remove the pins. For what seemed forever, his fingers wove and delved deeply, gently dislodging the pins, some new, many old and well worn, loosening the heavy mane that would grace the pillow next to his for a lifetime. Twice, she flinched, stray hairs coming out with the pin. He apologized both times, unaware of her secret smile, as he handed them to her over her shoulder.

Finally, he ran his fingers through silken strands, reveling in the river that ran through them. 

"What does it mean?" He nodded to the two pins in her hands. 

Aefre lifted one up, inspecting it closely. "It's just an old wives tale."

Gamling snorted. "And?"

His bride rolled her eyes. "Really, Gamling-"

He grasped her wrist, as if to take the hair clips from her. "And?"

"It's rather silly." Aefre jerked her hand backwards, as if to keep the pins from him.

"I'll be the judge of that." Gamling snatched at her, managing to secure one pin from her grasp. He set it on the table, making note of the mirror that had found it's way there during the day. "Who?"

"My grandmother's." For a moment, she stroked the gilded edge. "I kept it in a trunk under my bed as I had no where really to hang it in my old room. I had... forgotten about it."

Gamling had a rather evil gleam in his eye. Quickly, he masked it, before she noticed when she caught his reflection in the glass and shook the pin at her. "And?"

Aefre sighed in disgust, realizing her husband wouldn't be swayed. "According to old Shield Maidens, it's how many children we will have. This one," she picked up the lone pin he had set down, "has two hairs. Make of it what you will!"

It was quiet for a moment, azure orbs searching the dark of hers, before he snorted.

"What?"

"Thinking."

Aefre laid the pin down on the table and turned. She reached for the one in Gamling's hand. "Thinking about what?"

Gamling handed it to her and shook his head. "It would be gossip and speaking ill of the dead." He watched as she laid the hair clasp down and then held his hand out for her to unwind her ribband from around his palm.

"Gamling-" she laid the worn scrap of fabric next to the pins.

With a mock, but playful glare, he answered her. "Fyren." He gestured, welcoming her nude body into his embrace.

Aefre's hands stole around him, grazing under his tunic. She found the rim of his leggings and as he had done just minutes before for her, began to loosen his lacings. "What about Fyren?"

A playful tongue tipped the edge of Gamling's lip and with the finesse of a well-trained battalion commander, he began to edge her backwards towards the chair he had vacated, just as her fingers breached the front of his leggings. "He used to brag how his wives screamed at his bedroom prowess." Aefre's knees hit the edge of the seat and she sat down with a soft 'thud.' "Now, I know better." He sank to the floor and lifted her knees apart and over the arms of the chair. Two fingers gently traced a path from her belly to where she met the seat, gently teasing her apart. "He pulled their hair out, ensuring his lineage." The two fingers flipped, the backs now tracing upwards.

Aefre growled once and accommodated him by pulling her knees further apart. "Testing the waters, m'lord?"

He was inspecting her sex, as if to examine the folds. "Reach behind you and grasp the knob." He had learned long ago, she would pull the hair from his head if he wasn't careful and he doubted she would hang on for long. 

_***I have a plan for that...***_

"No." Again, the fingers stroked downward, dragging slowly, this time lingering over the sensitive bud, both fingers separating, outlining, caressing the sides of slick velvet. He blew gently, causing her to gasp, before - 

"I'm tasting them."

\- inhaling her, encircling her with his tongue. 

Aefre bucked once, before moaning and thrusting forward as best she could. Her toes pointed straight to the ceiling as her breath caught in a gasp. In recent weeks, he had come to know her, know her body, know what was sensitive, what would drive her over the edge. He knew when he caressed her *this* way, her hands...

"Yesyesyesyesyes!" Anxious fingers dug into his scalp, entwining in the roots of long hair. 

With a grimace and a heart-felt sigh, Gamling leaned back, reaching up to disentangle her fingers. With oft suffering patience, he whispered, "Grasp the knob."

With a loud groan, Aefre obeyed. "I'm sorry, it's just-"

"I know." Gamling blew gently on the still - exposed and swollen bud, causing her to gasp. " You're afraid I won't find the right spot after all this time." He lowered his head.

"No, I...gaaaaaah...." She lost all control yet again when his tongue wrapped around the sensitive nub of flesh. Yet again, she turned loose of the knob and wrapped her fingers in the roots of his hair. Again, with a well - practiced pent - up lament, the Rider pulled back, and pulling her fingers from his hair, stood up and moved to the shelf, where his small chest of personal valuables sat. With a wave of his hand, he bid her to stay put, as he pulled several things from the chest. As an afterthought, he reached over to the small table and grabbing the worn ribband, placed it reverently in the chest.

"What are you doing?"

With an evil grin, he picked up the items he had removed and strolled behind her. "Grasp the knob."

Without thought, Aefre reached for the main knob on the chair above her head. "What did you ha...GAMLING!" Silk scarves were being wrapped around her wrists, the knob and the intricate carvings in the chair. "What are you doing?" Quickly, she found her hands firmly tied above her head. She jerked twice to no avail.

"Doing what I should have done before," Gamling finished up the knot, placed well out of her reach, "a long time ago!" He came around and knelt down between her legs. "Now, I can finish dessert without you pulling my hair out!"

He resumed his sweet torture, licking and nibbling, his teeth plucking gently on the swollen bud. Aefre alternated between curses and endearments, at times Gamling couldn't tell which was which. On several occasions, he caught her on an upswing and managed to delve his tongue deep within the sweet tunnel he planned on plundering in the not to distant future. She accused him of teasing her, torturing her...

And when rivulets of sweat trickled between her breasts, he latched firmly, two long fingers reaching up inside, curling, stroking, suckling...

....screaming...

He waited until her thrashing and the ringing in his ears subsided, before leaning back and using a single thumb to wipe the dregs of her orgasm from his mouth. Her chest was heaving, breath was labored.

…"bstrd..."

Gamling leaned back on his heels, looking up at all of her, legs sprawled over the arms of the chair, her hands gently tied above and behind her head. Her eyes were shut tight and her head was tilted to the left, and Aefre struggled to regain her breath. "What was that?"

"Bastard." It was whispered, her breath still heavy.

"I thought you liked my mother."

Aefre opened one eye and dropped her jaw, most likely to heap more insults on him but before she could utter a word, a wretched caterwauling arose from outside their window.

"Béma! What the-" Gamling stood up from his position, knees creaking and popping slightly. He stared at the window. 'No. It's can't be..." with a scowl, he proceeded to head towards the window.

"GAMLING!" Aefre proceeded to kick to the best of her ability "Don't leave me here tied to this damn chair!"

Gamling thought to tell her to stay put, but he decided not to bother. She was fairly immobile; where could she go? He reached the window and unhooking the latch, threw the shutters open.

The tuneless warbling intensified in sound, now more audibly clear. Leaning over the sill that he climbed out of that morning, Gamling squinted down into the dark garden.

_***Béma help us all. That arse is serenading us!***_

Sure enough, Éomer and what looked to be Éothain and ...

_***Béma, was that Faramir leanng against the wall, laughing?***_

…several other Riders Gamling didn't even try to identify...

_I love to go swimming_

_with bow-legged women_

_and swim between their legs..._

"What is that? Béma! Is that Éomer?" Aefre was straining, craning to see. The chair was moving slightly, aided by her bouncing. "Damn you! Untie me this instant!"

Gamling never took his eye off his sovereign. For a moment, he seemed to gauge the distance and area, before turning his back to the window. Looking quickly around the room, he spied a likely missile.

_Now listen my children, a story you'll hear._

_A song I will sing you; 'twill fill you with cheer._

_A charming young maiden was wed in the Fall._

_She married a man who had no balls at all._

_No balls at all._

"What?" Aefre stopped her bouncing for a moment. "Did he just sing what I thought he just sang?" Gamling strode across the room, not seeming to notice Aefre or hearing her chair scrape on the floor. 

"Yes." He picked up the offensive weapon and returned to the window.

_No balls at all._

"GAMLING! You're not-" More bouncing and scrapping on the floor.

Taking careful aim, Gamling reared his hand back and fired.

"NOT YOUR -

_She married a man who had no balls at all._

_The night of the wedding she leaped into bed._

The first shot went slightly wide...

" - NEW BOOTS!"

... the sound of dirt being disturbed and kicked up.

"Hhhheeeeeeeeeeeeywhatcherthrowin'?..." Éothain's voice wailed while Éomer continued to warble drunkenly.

_Her breasts were a-heaving; her legs were well spread._

_She reached for his penis; his penis was-_

"Gamling!" Aefre's chair was scrapping across the floor, "don't you dare-"

"They pinch," Gamling muttered. He held his left boot, eyes squinted in the moonlit dark. Spying his target, he took careful aim again.

"GAMLING!"

He threw the detestable footwear...

_She reached for his balls; he had no balls-_

_*thunk*_

" at aw... OW! Whaddya..."

Thud.

Gamling continued to peer into the darkness. He saw a shadow disengage from the wall.

"You got him." Faramir's voice drifted up from the garden below the window. The shadow bent of the shadowy lump that Gamling presumed was his king. "Come on, Éothain. You grab his feet."

Thud. The other shadow fell. The rest of the Riders scattered much like the dirt stirred up by Gamling's thrown boots.

"Well, never mind." Faramir dropped the end he held. "Do you think Éomer King will mind sleeping in the herb garden?" he yelled upwards.

Gamling snorted and turned back to his bride who, still tied the chair, was now cursing enough to rival Elfhelm's wife. He reached her just as her chair was ready to tip backwards. 

"Don't do that." He tipped the chair forward to its normal position. 

"Untie me this instance, you buffoon, you-"

"Working on it." Gamling's fingers worked on the slipknots. "Sit still." Within moments, the scarf was unwound and her hands were freed. 

Aefre exploded from the chair, turning on him with her finger at the ready. For a moment, her jaw flapped soundlessly, her hand going from fist to thrusting finger to fist... before erupting in laughter.

"Man with no... balls... oh sweet Béma... what was he thinking?"

Gamling's face split in a grin, before holding his hand out to his bride. "I assure you, you aren't bow-legged." Aefre burst into screams of laughter as he led her towards the bed. "I think our king will have hangover of all hangovers in the morning." He watched as she crawled up on the bed, before peeling his leggings and joining her. 

"We should send someone to retrieve him from the garden. It's unseemly and-"

"He deserves it. Silly arse." Gamling reached across the bed and stroked her arm. "Tired?"

For a moment, Aefre's eyes took on a confused look, before softening. "No." It was a gentle whisper and she scooted closer. "I want to ride the Mearas."

There was a moment, when time stood still, as her face hovered over his, her breath gently wafting his beard, before he leaned forward and took possession of what she freely offered. For not the first time, he reveled in the softness of her, in the sweetness of her taste. The sounds of revelry continued to drift upwards from the main hall, but the couple in the large bed were unmindful of the noise. He caught his breath when she grasped him, gently stroking, she herself, marveling at the hardness in her hand. With a nudge, he invited her to his lap, aided her as she straddled him and guided himself into that wet sweetness-

_***mine***_

\- that ever encompassing heat. Her tongue owned his mouth, before moving to his ear and finally, her head resting on his shoulder. His now unoccupied mouth found the hollow beneath her ear, toying with her lobe, his hands pressing her back. Slowly, his fingertips stroked downwards, to the small of her back, before both hands firmly grasped her derriere, pulling her closer and impaling herself further down. As Gamling guided their rhythm, setting her firmly on his cock, one hand, one solitary finger caressed down the center, sliding surreptitiously between her cheeks. He expected the sudden gasp of breath in his ear and the tensing of the figure riding him.

"Gam-"

"Shh." He pressed her forward, his index finger finding the rosebud he was looking for. "Relax."

"Gaml-"

"Would I hurt you?" He waited a moment. "Relax." He continued kneading her rear with one hand, while stroking the edges of her outer wall with the other. Soon, she resumed the rhythm and relaxed. Before long, her quiet mews of need joined in the music of their breathing and the snoring rising through the garden window. At no time did Gamling attempt to invade or probe, simply persued to stroke and tease. On more than one occasion, his mouth found her breasts, her nipples, waiting for that welcome, sudden inhalation of breath. 

He held off as long as he could.

"Take me."

The response was breathless, thready and whispered. "Harder."

He thrust up-

"Not just...that...your... finger-"

_***Ah...no timid flower...***_

He complied with her request, still not entering, but firmly toying and teasing, thrusting so firmly, he began to tip backwards. Just as his head and back hit the mattress, he felt himself convulse, her teeth scrapping his shoulder, as he shattered within her.

***

It was full dark, the noise from downstairs, and thank Béma outside, had finally died down. Gamling's arm lay draped across Aefre's side, his breathing deep and even, strangely enough, already comfortable and soothing. 

She felt... safe...

The smell of sweat and sex -

_*Smells of us...*_

\- was overwhelming in the room, and slowly Aefre removed herself from her husband's embrace. She smiled as he grunted and muttered something unintelligible, grabbing the pillow her head had been cradled on and snuggling into it. Without bothering to wrap herself in anything, she padded softly around the bed, opening the window and quietly securing the shudders back. For a moment, she perused the night sky; there were no clouds, nothing to mar or dim the light from the stars and moon. She found The Rider, found The Horse. Both in the sky were a good omen, a good sky to be married under. Smiling, she crossed the room, stopping at the door and lifting the bar. Listening for a moment before opening it a crack, she draped the white cord over the latch, easing the door shut. On her way back to bed, she picked up Gamling's wedding cloak, still lying in the floor in a heap before making her way back to the bed and climbing onto the foot of the mattress.

She needed to crawl back next to Gamling's side, snuggle into that warm and protective embrace and sleep; it would be a long trip to Gondor and Aefre knew that her husband would start making grumblings about her riding before they were far past Aldburg. Truth was, while she won the argument of riding to Gondor, she wasn't sure if she would win it coming back.

Bah. The thought of riding in a cart sickened her - especially for the slow, gruesome task of escorting Théoden home. Granted, it was an honor to be part of Théoden's funeral escort, but... riding in a cart? Maybe, if she pleaded... 

Pleas that would more than likely fall on deaf Gamling ears, ears that in the past proved to be difficult and hard - headed. Right, most times, but difficult and obtuse, nonetheless.

Such a man.

She maneuvered to the edge, tucking her legs around her, and leaned against the bedpost to admire the form of the Rider she had married. Lines on his face, especially those that creased his forehead, so evident in wakefulness, were smoothed, erased in sleep. For now, he was peaceful, with the most silly grin on his face. Most nights, he tossed, mumbled about Mûmakils and Orcs, battle trolls and fires. There were still lines feathered around his eyes, from squinting or smiling, she didn't know. 

Most likely from squinting into the sun, through fires and smoke in countless battles. Gamling didn't smile much. 

Until recently.

Still not a lot, but more than in the past.

_***He's older than Lufian was when you married him and you thought he was a veritable ancient when he first rode onto Da's spread... then again, you're not youngling these days either.***_

Gamling had now rolled full on his stomach, the light quilt sliding down to past his hips. Her pillow was now in his arms, cushioning his head and Aefre didn't think she would get it back. Each muscle was now pulled taut and...

_***You married a sexy man! How did a plain wren like yourself get so damn lucky?***_

Twice lucky. That was blessed. Thank you, Béma.

Without thought, she ran her hand beneath the sheet, running fingers through crisp hair, feeling muscle honed and strengthened by hours and hours in the saddle. She had seen these muscles in action; hidden under leggings and mail, but so obviously evident as horse and Rider moved as one.

Respected, highly thought of, twice now, she was blessed. Béma, the man took up the majority of the bed!

"Tickles."

Aefre jerked her hand up and off the leg she was caressing. "I didn't realize you were awake. I'm sorry."

One eye was a narrow slit, the moon not even glinting in the reflection. "Ishokay. Donschtop."

Aefre smiled and moved towards him, her hand now gently massaging the long leg.

"Higher."

She snorted and decided she had married a demanding man. The hand skirted up over the fleshy curve of a well -formed hip, over the small of his back. There was a light downy patch of hair there, unusual compared to the rest of his body. She arched her fingers, going from a tender rub, to a gentle scratch as she roamed higher up his spine.

There was a growl, almost a purr, coming from the pillows. 

"What? Would you like me to stop?"

"No." Gamling stretched and thrust his shoulder blade into the cup of her hand. "Feels good. Harder."

Aefre complied, knowing she would ask him to reciprocate in a few moments. All this might even lead into-

The growl/purr was now a rumble. "Lower." 

Aefre complied, moving between his shoulder blades.

"Lower."

With the raise of an eyebrow, she scratched the middle of his back.

"Lower."

To the small...

"Lower."

With a wry smile, her fingers lightly raked the curve of his backside.

"Don't stop." The prone man in her bed was now moving with her, the accompanying grin almost child-like. With a sudden jerk, he flipped over, Aefre's fingers having moved from caressing a marble backside, to a hardening...

Well, it was hardening and it was insistent.

"I'm so glad I got married." Gamling was now stretching like a satisfied cat. "Definitely, don't stop."

Aefre had no intention of stopping, but she would be damned if she was going to let him know that. "Like this so much, wish you had gotten married sooner?"

Eyes that had been closed in repose shot open, the moon reflecting in them like mirrors. "No!" It came out almost with too much force. "You were worth waiting for."

Aefre tightened her grip and lengthened her stroking. As she slid downwards, she brought the foreskin down as well, her thumb stroking the head. "If you think I'm going to spend my entire married life scratching your arse all night-"

Gamling sat up so fast, he truly caught her unawares. With a flip, she found herself on her back, a hard leg shoved between her knees, one hand sliding up her jaw, towards her ear. "If I ask nicely, would you?" It was whispered, sounded almost reverent. He lowered himself, his lips caressing, breath tickling her ear. He was prodding her, on purpose or not, heat seeking heat. He kissed her earlobe, tongue teasing the rim, the shell, the remnants of his beard tickling the delicate and sensitive skin of her neck. "Would you if I pleaded?"

She grabbed his face with both hands, cupping his jaw, her own lips finding his. For a moment, she teased-

_***Damn, she is good at that. Going to have a time... love this marriage thing...***_

-his mouth, his tongue, her nose tracing, nudging the tip of his. "Didn't they tell you?" *kiss* "Once you get married," *kiss* " there is no more sex or naked' *kisskisswithlotsoftongue* "games in the bed." He could feel her smiling against his face as she said it.

"Then they lied," Gamling whispered back, before taking possession of her mouth. With his knee, he pushed her legs further apart, before thrusting once, knowing instinctively where home truly lay, where heat met heat. For long minutes, their rhythm, their breath was as one, a compliment, a dance. There was sweetness, calling and neither was quiet when the culmination came, one of those rare times when both reached their pinnacle at the same time.

It was in the aftermath, when he was still buried deep within her, still feeling both heartbeats pound together, his hands still buried in her hair, her knees still around his waist and her arms clinging to him.

"Yes," her husband whispered in her ear, "whoever told you that sex and naked games stop upon marriage lied."

"Oh," Aefre was still breathless and still trying to gain control of her erratic heart. "They did?"

"Uh-huh." It dawned on Aefre he was grinning in the dark. "It stops when the babies start to arrive." 

***** 

_This is Aefre in her wedding dress. Actually, this is Butternut Road's "Once Upon A Time" cross stitch pattern and yes I have stitched this. It took 5 years to complete._

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v152/ZeeDippyVessel/Fic%20Artwork/?action=view&current=Aefreinherweddingdress.jpg)


	41. 40 - There's got to be a morning after

****

Rider of the Mark 40 

****

There’s got to be a morning after 

The sun was barely over the fields when Gamling began to stir. Aefre’s head was pillowed on his shoulder and somewhere in the back of his noggin, it registered that his head was on her pillow.

 _***Fair enough trade***_

There was minor rustling in the hallway outside their-

_***Theirtheirsyesfinallyminemineminehothothotwomanwifemine***_

-doorway, but nothing to warrant that Éomer and his fellow Riders were sniffing at the door. He attempted to roll from the bed, stopped by Aefre’s leg swinging over his and her body snuggling in. “The door-”

“Has been prepared.” She was quiet for a moment. “Your cloak is on the foot of the bed. You might want to spread it out over us.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Gamling sat up and began to spread the cloak while grinning wickedly. With a snort, he threw the cloak over Aefre’s head before-

“GAMLING!” Aefre hissed, sitting up and pulling the cloak from her face. “What in Béma’s name are you-” her breath hissed inwards as the cool morning air caressed her body. 

Gamling kicked the bed quilt completely from the bed before grabbing the cloak and covering just the bare necessities. “Covering us.” He pulled Aefre against him and tucked his cloak-encased arm around her. “I’m wrapping you like a proper Rohirrim.” He gathered her to him, enfolding her in such a way that only her tousled hair and legs -

_**minemineminelegswrappedaroundmyneck***_

\- could be seen.

“My _arse_ is showing!”

“It’s a nice arse-”

“GAMLING!”

“All right! All right!” He helped her flip over. “Now, my arse is showing!”

Aefre snuggled in, wiggling her bottom against him. “It’s a nice arse,” she retorted, giggling.

“Aefre…” Gamling growled in her ear. “Unless you wish for Éomer and his cronies to walk in-”

“The cloak will suffice.” He could feel her smile. “Have you no self control?”

Before Gamling could answer, the door latch rattled and the door squeaked open. 

There was a thud.

“Shire…” Éothain was in the doorway, sliding down the frame, “Wha’ yew shee?”

“Oh, for the love of Béma!” Aefre threw her head back and banged Gamling in the nose. “Those two are too drunk to officially see their nose!”

“I shee my nosh.” Éomer’s voice was indignant. “I shee a rug.” He looked up blearily at the bedchamber. “Why am I sheeing a rug?”

“Becaush yew are onna floor.” Éothain had now joined Éomer. “Now ahmonna floor.” He patted the carpet. “Ish a nice rug. How’d Gamming get a niesh rug?”

Éomer was on his hands and knees trying to stand. “Damn. I cannnnnnnt schtand up!”

**Thud.**

Éothain was sitting down, leaning against the doorframe. “Yer pitiful. Yer my king and yer a pitiful, pitiful fekker.”

Éomer had a finger in the air, waving it at no one. “That’s King Fekker, to you.” He was back on his hands and knees, looking up and about. “PSSSSHT! Wharsh t’bed?”

“Béma!” Aefre whispered, lifting her head, “they’ll be all day!” Her head hit the pillow with an audible ‘plop.’

Gamling tried to help. He raised his hand in the air and began to wave it around. “Over here.”

There was now an audible chuckling from the hall, Faramir leaning against the hall wall, watching the shenanigans through the doorway. Éomer finally made it back to his feet and he was weaving precariously. He caught sight of the waving hand and pointed. “Gammming! How d’yew fare?” It dawned on him he was in their room for a reason and he staggered across the floor, finger waving. “Oh! Aefre! I shee yew!” It took a moment for him to come up with the words. “I shee yew. I shee yew wrapped in Gammings cloak.” He stood bolt up. “Éotooottttthain. Do yew shee?”

Éothain was sitting on his butt, propped up against the doorframe still, his knees up and both arms draped across his knees. “Aye shee.” He wasn’t even looking. “Aye shee Aefre in Gammm-links cloak.” He looked groggily at Faramir in the hall. “Do yew shee?”

“Aye, Éothain. I see.”

“Aye need t’be shick now.” He pushed his way up the doorframe. “My roomsh close. Aye think.” Using the wall as a prop, he stumbled down the hallway.

Éomer was still standing, how was anyone’s guess. Gamling’s head was now propped up on his fist on one elbow. “Sire, might I suggest you find Willan and ask him for some of that shite tea we had yesterday?”

“Willan.”

“Yes, sire. Willan.”

“Big guy.” His hand went somewhere above his head.

“Aye.”

Éomer tried to restrain a rather painful belch. “Quiet.”

“Very.”

“Aye know him.” He turned clumsily, almost falling over again. “Willan. Big guy. Shite tea.” He staggered to the doorway before turning around. “Aye see yew Aefre of the Wold, wrrrraaped in Gam-links cloak.” He slumped. “Aye hope t’find haf t’happiness yew haf.” With that, he wobbled from the room and down the hall.

“In case it was not official enough,” Faramir leaned into the room and took a hold of the door latch, “I see you Aefre of the Wold, wrapped in Gamling’s cloak. I wish you much happiness.” Retching could be heard down the hall and the Prince of Ithilien grimaced. “I do not think Éothain made it to his chambers.” Gamling sat up, leaving Aefre scrambling to cover her naked bits and bobs. “I’ll get the door.” He put up a flat hand, warding the Marshal from leaving the bed. “And I’ll take care of those two. Willan; big guy; shite tea. I would find him where?”

“Kitchens most likely,” Aefre called from the cloak.

“Kitchens. ‘Tis early. You have a few hours.” The door closed with a gentle click.

Gamling jumped from the bed and dropped the bar, ensuring they would have no more visitors. He turned back to the bed with a rather predatory gleam in his eye, rubbing his hands together. “Now that that’s taken care of, wife…”

“Who does Éomer have on his mind?” 

Gamling crawled back in the bed, bringing the heavy quilt up with him. He kneed Aefre’s thighs apart and kissed a perky breast. “The fact he needs a queen is weighing heavily. Already many high lords and princes are presenting him with lists of acceptable women to be his queen and many a Rohirrim woman, both young and old are throwing themselves at him.” He kissed the other breast, before latching on. “These are very nice. Are they mine to play with now?”

Aefre cradled his head, enjoying the sparks of pleasure that shot through her. “Lists be damned. Who is Éomer most interested in?”

Gamling shook his face between them…

_*minemineminemineminefunbagsmineminemine*_

“Imrahil’s daughter. In fact, she is at the top of the Prince’s list.”

Aefre slid her hands to her husband’s very nice arse indeed. “I could care less about anyone’s list. I care about who he is interested in.”

Gamling stopped the foreplay for a moment. “He likes the Princess of Belfalas; Lothiwhateverhernameis. The problem is, he does not feel he is worthy of her.” He kissed her neck. “Can we discuss this later? We have an entire trip to Gondor to talk about it.”

By this time, Aefre was positioning herself for a pleasurable assault. But in the back of her mind, she wondered why Éomer would feel unworthy of anyone, especially a mere princess.

 

*** 

Gamling went around Dréogan.

_***not here!***_

He walked around Adenydd, double-checking the cinch, her saddle and bridal. She was a well-behaved beauty, standing still with Haleth holding her bridle. Unlike his own stead…

_***still not here!***_

He circled around Dréogan again. Dréogan snorted and yanked his head in attempt to pull loose from the young squire.

“What is your problem?” Gamling looked into the bemused eyes of the King of Rohan. If he was hung-over, he showed no sign, no indication. His eyes were clear and his smile was mischievous. “Your wife is late. Is this going to become habit?” Out of routine, Gamling took his horse’s bridle, standing firm while the stallion snorted and acted put out.

_*** If I had my druthers… damn the man is twinkling…***  
_  
Gamling attempted to change the subject. “Sire, I have been thinking-“

“Thinking?” Éomer’s eyebrows rose. “Last night? Aefre gave you time to think?” His voice dropped to an almost inaudible level. “I will have to have a chat with Aefre. She’s falling down on her job!” 

“Sire, about our problem in the Wold…” Éomer immediately snapped to attention, “…I was considering a set of quiet ears to-”

“A spy?” the King hissed. He leaned in, nose to nose with the older marshal. “You suggest I put a spy in the Wold?” Éomer sounded less than pleased.

“Gamling held his ground. “Yes.” Dréogan blew horse slobbers into the side of Gamling’s shoulder.

Éomer rocked back on his heels. “A spy.”

“A quiet spy.”

“Quiet?” Dréogan was now yanking at the bridal, an attempt to move closer to Adenydd. Haleth saw this and pulled the mare closer to the stallion, in attempts to calm him.

“Aye.”

“Hmmm.” Éomer considered the request. “Where is Willan?”

Gamling didn’t appear to be listening; his attention was now elsewhere. “With Aefre.”

“With Aefre? How do you kno--- oh.” 

Aefre was picking her way through the line, shadowed by Willan, who was carrying a set of saddlebags. Aefre’s mouth was moving a league a minute, obviously giving Willan final instructions. That Aefre was talking up a storm, shadowed by the hulking mute wasn’t a sight that was causing the Elves to suddenly mumble amongst themselves. 

“Would you look at that?” Éomer whistled in appreciation. “Béma, I love Rohirrim women!” 

Aefre was wearing a green tunic and soft brown leggings, causing Belfalian and Gondorian eyebrows to rise and side-saddled ladies and elleths to twitter. Lothiriel’s jaw was firmly clenched before leaning across to her father, an argument of Belfalian proportions preparing to brew. 

“My Lord,” Aefre reached her husband and horse and she inclined her head to Éomer. She looked at Gamling. “Husband.”

Gamling rolled his eyes. “Wife.”

“I’m glad you figured that out!” Éomer watched the exchange with amusement. “Willan. I have need of your services. Here.” He took the saddlebags and plopped them over Gamling’s shoulders. “She has a… husband.” Gamling reeled under the weight. “Let him secure them.” The two disappeared into the throng.

Gamling managed to sling the saddlebags over Adenydd’s rump, buckling them into place. “These are heavy as dirt!”

“Yes.” She pulled a cloth from his belt and handed it to him. “You have horse slobbers on your shoulder.”

Gamling stared sternly at his wife. Most riders would quiver under such glaring auspiciousness, but not Aefre. He snatched the cloth and began to rub. “I do not want to know.”

“I am going to right a wrong.” Aefre put a foot in the stirrup and heaved up. “Am I to ride with you?”

Gamling thought to himself. His place was with his king, but truth be told… “I best ride with the King.” He tucked the cloth back into his belt and pulled up on his horse, his side stretching painfully. Aefre saw his grimace and in her heart, she ached to tell Éomer they were not going. Gaming saw the thought cross her features. “I would be honored if you joined me there.”

Aefre maneuvered her horse next to him. “If your side pains you this much-“

“I am a Rider of Rohan! I will survive,” he spat tersely. He immediately felt remorse for snapping at her. He reached over and placed a gloved hand on her knee. “The injury must be worked. Forgive me.”

Aefre stared ahead, shaking her head. “Cretin.” But her tone was soft and she placed her hand on his. “I spoke to Arwen about your injury,” Aefre’s thumb rotated in a gentle circle on his knuckle, “and she said she would speak to her father about an oil or poultice to put on your side to help.” Gamling threw his head to the side; eyes squeezed shut in a grimace. “If it is an oil, I would massage it in every night. Perhaps in the mornings as well.”

Gamling’s eyes were still squeezed shut, but the tightness in his face relaxed. “Massage?”

“Aye.”

One eye opened. “Tonight?”

“Bonehead.”

The Marshal’s face split into a grin. “I have a bone…”

At that, Éomer’s voice rang through the line. “Riders! Riders HO!”

The bridal party was mounted and ready to go, with Éomer’s éored moving to the head. Éowyn and Faramir had their heads together, holding hands and whispering; it made Éomer gag to think about it. He looked away self-consciously and caught the eye of Lothiriel.

Both princess and king looked down, embarrassed and blushing. He looked up in time to see Gamling and Aefre moving to the front. They were riding close enough to be holding hands.

“Can I speak to you a minute?” Éomer whispered, his hand reaching to grasp Dréogan’s bridle. “I have taken your advice.”

“Oh?” Dréogan was ready to go, ready to ride and he was chomping at the bit, giving Gamling a difficult time.

“I have decided to send Willan up to the Wold. I have told him to try the garrison first, wherever they will let him in and to listen. He is to return when he has heard enough.”

“That is a good idea. Willan is not a stupid man.” Dréogan jerked again, freeing himself from Éomer’s hand and attempting to nuzzle Adenydd, but Éomer truly wasn’t paying attention to the cantankerous stallion. His eyes followed the group from Belfalas. Gamling’s eyes followed his king’s, to the young woman who sat too dainty for a Rohirrim. “If she falls off, Sire, you should be in position to rescue her.”

Éomer gave a half-smile. “I would teach her to ride properly. Do you think she might be interested?”

“Only one way to find out.”

A dark shadow flitted across his face. “Perhaps, I shall ask her to dance-”

“Take her shopping, my lord.” Aefre winked. 

Dréogan whipped his head, reaching to bite at the king. “Sire, I suggest we get éored started before my stallion nips his way to the gate.” Gamling pulled tight on the reins, and clicking his tongue in signal, pulled forward towards the front of the party. 

Aefre stopped and leaned over. “You have nothing to be ashamed of and I know you are not shy. Once we get started, go talk to her. I like her. So does your sister. Do not underestimate yourself.” She nodded towards her husband. “I am going to ride with him. I hope I am not breaking any rules of etiquette.”

“You would not care if you were.” Éomer patted Adenydd on the rump. “Go to your husband.” 

It took time for the large group to leave through the gates of Edoras. People lined the paths to watch, the sight of Elves, Men and ladies from other countries something they would speak of for many years to come.

Two hours later, Willan quietly left the city, riding what looked to be a large draft horse, a tattered bedroll attached to the saddle. He carried a sword, tack, and a plain cloak. As he turned to the northeast, a solitary figure watched and prayed over him. For the first time in her life, Eadignes knew that someone truly loved her.

*** 

Gamling was moving forward.

True, he had no choice. Dréogan was in motion and the Rider was more or less powerless, sitting on his back, simply along for the ride. The closer the entourage got to Pelennor Fields, the more the Rider's body and heart resisted. He left once; he never had any intention of coming back-

_*Yes you did! You couldn't leave Théoden here to rot with the Gondorians*_

"Gamling?" Aefre's query cut through his reverie. Worried brown eyes searched his. “Are you all right?”

“I am fine.”

Aefre knew better, but she refused to push the point. Each passing night, Gamling became more and more restless in his sleep. Sometimes, he called… no, he cried out in his sleep. The things he saw, fought against, terrified him in the night. Aefre had a bruise on her shin, where he had kicked her and each night, she attempted to have their tent moved further and further from the company, so as not to disturb anyone else. If the group thought they wanted more privacy, well, that was fine with her.

She spoke with the great elven healer, Elrond, the first evening, when they stopped for the night. He gave her several vials of healing oil, to be worked in Gamling’s scar and he promised to write the recipe down once they arrived in Minas Tirith. She was fascinated by his infinite knowledge of lore and herbs, that far surpassed her own and she decided to find a notebook of sorts so she could write down everything he told her. That way, she could pass them along to Helgarda and Eadignes. Elrond checked Gamling’s wound himself, much to the displeasure of her husband – who grumbled and barked as only a troll of a man could – telling him whoever stitched him did a wonderful job and that he was a lucky man. Gamling insisted turn and turn was fair play and forced Aefre to some stomach prodding of her own. Elrond told her their babe was well placed and healthy; he even told her he knew the sex, but Aefre wanted to wait and be surprised.

But the closer they got to Minas Tirith, the more agitated Gamling became.

*** 

_TrollsorcsburningfireflamingtrollsoffireThéodennonononoflyinghorsesflyingthingsnazgul Éowynnoooarrowsandrocksandgrond…_

Gamling shot up, breathing heavily and in a sweat. Aefre mumbled and rolled over, Gamling patting her to make sure she continued sleeping. Desperate for air, he quietly stole from the furs, covering her and putting on his leggings. He made his way through the flaps and stepped out, breathing deeply of the fresh breeze, careful not to wake his wife. He strode through the camp, to the hillside, knowing they would arrive in Minas Tirith the next day. His greatest nightmare lay there and he dreaded it. Dreaded the time, dreaded the journey back.

_***I have to bring Théoden home. Bring him home to sleep next to Elfhild…***_

“Some things, Gamling of Rohan, are not meant to be pondered in silence.”

Gamling started, not hearing the Elf come up behind him. The dark hood was lowered and in the light of the moon, the beauty of Galadriel was unbound. “My Lady-”

“You fear the field. You fear what you saw and you fear your memory of it. You are not alone.” She was now standing next to him, a calming, ancient presence. “Many Men of the West have the same nightmares, the same fears as you. But you are not many men.”

 

Gamling hung his head before looking away. “I should have been-”

“You were not meant to be by his side, Gamling, son of Gamhelm.” The Lady of the Golden Wood turned as if to leave. “You have chosen well, your life partner. She is strong. Lean on her, as she will need to lean on you this coming winter. Do not be afraid to tell her your fears. You fret over something you could not prevent; something that was meant to be.” Galadriel pulled up her hood. “A storm comes this winter. A storm for your wife and a hard decision for your king. Lean on your wife, so she will lean on you.” The Elf disappeared into the night, leaving Gamling alone in the darkest of the night with his thoughts.

“Gamling?” Aefre appeared at his side and threaded her arm through his. “Who were you talking to? Is everything all right?” In the moonlight, he could see her tiredness, her fear and worry for him apparent. He started to lie, tell her all was fine, 

* _**You fret over something you could not prevent…***_

With a lump in his throat, he covered her hand. “My dreams have been very dark and I do not wish to burden you.”

“I wish you would. If anything it might ease your heart.”

“I worry for you.” He smoothed her hair back, tendrils flying loose from her braid. “All of this cannot be good for our babe.”

“I will worry about our babe. You tell me what worries you.”

Gamling exhaled sharply. “You should not be traveling. We should tell Éomer you are expecting-”

“And go back home after coming all this way?” Aefre rolled her eyes. “You will not rest until Théoden is returned and safely buried.” She leaned over and laid her head against his arm. “Your sleep is so agitated and the closer we get to Minas Tirith, the worse it gets.” She patted him on the shoulder and pulled him towards the tent. “Tomorrow, we will sleep in a real bed, but tonight, we need to rest as best we can. Come.”

Gamling took one last look towards the dark horizon before turning and following his wife.

Over the horizon lay the cause and the roots of his nightmares and he hated the thought of burdening Aefre with all of it.


	42. 41 - Flowers for Snowmane

****__

Rider of the Mark 41 __

**__**

Flowers for Snowmane

*** 

As was its wont, the party traveled slowly towards its destination. Dréogan was not helping the situation, acting out more than Aefre had ever seen. “He is always this cantankerous when you are on patrol?”

“No. I do not know why he is so antsy.” He finally gave up and put his heels to Dréogan. Aefre followed and the two appeared to race to the rise.

Beneath them lay Pelennor Fields. To Aefre, it was a sea of long green grass and at the far side, a tall, majestic dais of a white city rose over the field. There were bright banners waving from the parapets and what looked like market stalls and brilliantly colored tents around the gates. Many came to celebrate the king’s wedding and happiness.

But Gamling saw none of that.

His face was ashen, grey in the afternoon sun. He was having a difficult time swallowing as…

_Firefirefireorcsandflameandmumukilandharirimandflyinghorseandhorsemen…_

He never spoke of what happened on the battlefield or at the Black Gate and Aefre knew he was reliving it. “What do you see, Gamling?”

“I see dead people.” Aefre nudged her horse closer and took her husband’s hand. “Over there,” he pointed with the other, “there was no gate. It was down when we arrived, destroyed. This entire field,” he motioned with the flat of his hand, encompassing the entire field, “was filled with orcs.” He was quiet for a moment. “Orcs and fire. They took no notice of us, the sun rising at our backs, until I blew the horn.” He waited a moment, to catch his breath, to swallow painfully. “When I blew the horn, so many turned to us, charged us. I remember following Théoden down into the abyss, it was like Mordor unleashed a sea of monsters.”

On and on he continued; in all the time Aefre knew him, he had never spoken, talked this much. He recounted driving into the orcs, rolling over them, cutting down orc after orc. He told her of the giant oliphants, the mumukils, how their barbed tusks threw horse and rider, of riding under them, behind them, realizing Théoden was no longer near and then the Black Wraiths and the Eagles. Eventually, he stopped, verbally purged and spent, and without warning, he gave a battle cry and charged down the hill, much as he had the last time he was there. Aefre galloped after him; this was not racing, not like the two of them enjoyed. Dréogan had wanted to be loosed this badly for ages and the war horse dashed to the center of the field before Gamling turned him, turned him to face Aefre.

“I lost him, Aefre. I lost him. It’s my fault!”

“Gamling, you can’t blame yourself!” For a moment, the Rider was furious, his anger more powerful than any she had seen and it made her want to cower. “There were tens… hundreds of thousands by your own admission. It’s not your fault.”

For a moment, Gamling continued to glower. Finally, he released the pent up energy and slumped. “That’s what the Lady of the Golden Wood said last night.” He turned Dréogan and began to walk. “She said I was not to blame. I was not meant to be at his side. ‘Tis hard to accept.”

They drifted eastward for a few minutes, Aefre allowing him to deal with his demons. After a while she turned back to look, saw the bridal party cresting the rise.

“Where is he, Gamling? Where is Snowmane?”

“What they wrote-”

“I know. It’s awful. Show me.”

She followed him, as he trotted to the east, eventually, the two of them circling, searching the field. Finally, Gamling spotted the plaque. He tied Dréogan’s reins and handed him an apple he had in his saddlebags. Aefre followed, looking at the inscription. She shook her head, tsking under her breath before following Gamling to the ground, tying her horse as well and opening her saddlebags.

Those bags Gamling complained were as heavy as dirt, were filled with several sacks OF dirt; rich Rohirrim soil she and Willan scooped from the kitchen garden the morning they left Edoras. She pulled a hand claw, a garden tool from the sack and dropping to her hands and knees, began scrapping around the plaque, pulling the grass and weed away from it.

“Aefre, what are you doing?”

“Righting a wrong.”

The party they were traveling with caught up to them, most keeping their distance and whispering what was the Marshal’s wife up to? They didn’t see the horse pull up next to them or notice the boots that jumped almost in their midst, causing a small amount of dust to stir up.

“Aefre?” Éomer’s voice was very gentle, “What are you doing?” 

Aefre looked up, sweat dripping from her forehead. “In my saddlebags, you’ll find a small bag of what looks like seed. It is several kinds of mint, rosemary, and thyme, along with simbelmynë seed. There are also several water bags with water from the Snowbourne.” She reached over and touched Gamling on the hand. “Théoden loved this horse. He would grieve that anyone would refer to him as his bane.” 

“So you have brought Rohan to Snowmane.” He joined with her, digging around the small monument. 

Éomer watched for a moment, the two heads bent over a single task, before dropping to his knees and helping as well.

“Can I help?” Éomer looked up into a sea of green and for the first time, he did not look away blushing. Lothiriel was off her palfrey, looking down at the group in the dirt, along with many others. 

Éomer motioned to Aefre’s saddlebags, covertly watching the Princess’s every move as she retrieved the bags of seed, dirt and water. She realized that the three were doing something almost spiritual, so rather than intrude, she stepped back, taking the empty bags and garden claw as the three were finished. No one realized the bridal party continued on, leaving the four in the dirt. 

“I don’t know if the simbelmynë will grow.” Aefre was sprinkling the last of the water around the gravestone. “But it’s there.” She stood up and dusted off her breeches and gloves. “I am sorry Éomer, if I intruded-”

“Sorry for what?” Éomer was also standing up, very aware that Lothiriel was standing at his elbow. Every nerve ending in his body was on alert and he tried to pretend he wasn’t aware of her presence. “You did something I didn’t even think about. It was very kind.” With all the self-control he could muster, he turned to the young woman reeking havoc in his very being. “Would you like a hand up, Princess?”

She bestowed a smile that lit up his world. “Aye, that I would.” She extended a kid-leather clad hand to the very tall man and allowed him to help her mount.

By this time, Gamling had helped Aefre up and was mounting his own horse. As Éomer went around him to mount his, he elbowed the Marshal. “I am not in a hurry to catch up. If the two of you want to move a bit ahead-”

“We will stay behind, but at a distance.”

Aefre smiled and reined in her horse. “Go get her!” she winked.

*** 

Gamling decided that weddings were tedious affairs and if he could get out of ever attending another, he would consider himself a lucky man. He was back in the hated boots, constraining clothing and useless sword. He was wearing his wedding cloak, as were the other married Riders, with its elaborate braiding and other emblems of his station. His wife was wearing the finery she wore for their own wedding. Elfhelm was currently squiring Aefre across the dance floor in a dizzying, rotating whirl, while Elfhelm’s wife, Lýðrest, stood next to Gamling, watching her husband and drinking a glass of wine.

“This shite is too sweet.”

Gamling quietly agreed.

“Tell me about the new trainees you have sent to our garrison.”

Gamling watched Elfhelm weave his wife in and out of the rotation on the floor. “Fugol and Glíwere. They are brothers.” Aefre and Elfhelm were followed by Éomer and Galadriel.

Lýðrest was known for her straight-forwardness, as well as her gutter mouth. Rumor had it that an old captain of the guard taught her to swear. “And Edoras’ garrison is so large, you couldn’t take them? The Eastenmet has much rebuilding to do and is not in a position to take on new riders.”

The dance was starting to wind down, thank Béma. “It was felt they would fare better under Elfhelm’s hand.”

“You mean, my frying pan.”

Gamling stared deep into the contents of his untouched wine glass. “Fugol is past an age to earn his first cloak and his brother is close behind in foulness. Neither has any respect for women and Fugol has already found himself knocked some span up a wall, with Willan holding him up.”

Lýðrest snorted into her fruity wine. “He must be ghastly to anger Willan.” 

“You have no idea.” He took Aefre’s hand as Elfhelm led her from the floor. 

“You should dance with your own wife, Gamling.”

“I do not dance.” He handed Aefre his own untouched glass. “Would you like some air?”

“Desperately!” The Horselord led her to the balcony, where the breeze was more obvious. She took a sip from the glass her husband pressed into her hand moments earlier. “It is much too stuffy in there.”

Gamling turned his back to the balustrade and propped his elbows on the top. “You should get more rest.”

“So should you!” she retorted. Aefre sighed and tucked herself under Gamling’s arm, both of them watching the dancing and social interactions within the hall. Gamling’s nightmares had not lessened since their arrival, since his emotional outburst on the fields of Pelennor. He was still restless; fought things in his sleep. “Let’s not argue. I wish you would allow me to give you something to help you sle-”

“Do not drug me.” The Marshal pulled her in closer, tighter and kissed the top of her head, showing her he wasn’t mad at her, simply the situation. “I will deal with it.”

“You are not dealing with it, Gamling.” They watched as Arwen and Elessar danced past the open door. “I would ask Elrond, but...” Her voice trailed off with the unspoken thought

“He is unhappy.”

“Aye.”

They stood there for some time, watching the goings on inside. They discussed little things, big things, the state of Sulis’s husband’s body and mind and would he survive the trip home in a few weeks. He lost an eye and an ear and relearning to ride without use of field of depth was daunting for the Rider. Eventually, the discussion moved to a more serious matter at hand. 

“Has he danced with her at all?” Gamling knew who she meant by ‘he’ and ‘her.’

“Twice. A reel and a slow dance.”

“Good. They are both very popular.”

‘Aye,’ Gamling thought to himself. _‘He is the hero-king of Rohan and she is a princess. And a beautiful one at that._ ’ She was swaying slowly and he took her in his arms, clasping one of her hands to his chest, his other, going around her waist. As he began to rock with her, his cloak swirled about them gently.

“Gamling?” Aefre’s voice was very quiet. “We’re dancing.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” For some time, there was no one in the world, but them.

“How many times are you going to wrap her up in your cloak, old man?” From nowhere, Éomer appeared on the balcony. He was resplendent in his finery, his cloak attached with horsehead clasps made of gold. For the first time, he wore the crown of Rohan, clearly signifying his station. He looked every inch a king. “I already caught you once.”

“Do you remember catching us?”

“Not really, no.” He took a drink from his wine. “Thank Béma, Faramir does. He says you have a fine arse, Aefre. Sorry I missed that. ” He hitched a shoulder up to keep Gamling’s lady from hitting him.

“I have no idea why men drink so much,” Aefre was feeling the effects of the evening and the wine. Her babe was starting to flutter and hiding the pregnancy was getting difficult. 

“We are Rohirrim,” Éomer announced, as if that should answer all questions about men and drinking. They watched as Lothiriel whirled by, partnered with a pompous Lamedonian. “I would like to get her alone for five minutes.” His nose went back in his glass.

“That is a pretty quick seduction, my lord.” Aefre’s glass was empty and she set it on the edge of the restraining wall of the balcony.

“Seduce?” Éomer was aghast. “Eh. I want an entire night to seduce her. Right now,” he nodded to himself, “I just want to kiss her. She has a battleaxe of a maidservant who goes everywhere with her.”

“So, kiss Lothiriel and seduce her maid.”

Éomer was staring at him with such loathing, it made Aefre step back. “Do you know what her name is? Thelielveril.” 

“The liver-what?” All these non-Rohirric names twisted Gamling’s tongue. 

Aefre was laughing. “Her name means ‘Dedicated Rose.’”

“Well, dedicated or rose, she’s dedicated at being a thorn! She’s as a rose bush!” Éomer finished his wine and scowled at the bottom of the glass. “Thorns everywhere! She hates everyone that is not from Dol Amroth, prejudiced nasty thing! I did get Lothiriel to agree to allow me,” and with this, Éomer pressed his hand to his heart in a most humorous and sarcastic way, “to walk with her in the hanging gardens in the top level of the city.” His voice then dropped and dripped venom. “Maybe she’ll leave her thorn bush in her rooms!” He leaned over and around his Marshal. “Has Gamling taken you to see them yet?”

“Not yet, sire.”

“Make him!” He motioned for Aefre’s abandoned goblet. “Would you like some more?” 

“Punch. Not wine, please,” Aefre smiled wanly. She was tiring and Gamling could see it.

Éomer, however, did not see her face. He took the glass. “The wine is pretty appalling. What I wouldn’t give for a good Rohirrim honey mead!” With that, he took off, both glasses in hand towards the buffet.

Aefre sensed more than saw Gamling’s arm steal around her and hold her close. “You are tired.”

“Getting there and it’s a happy tired.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the goings on in the large room. “We will probably never see the likes again. I wish Éowyn were here. I know she is planning her vows to Faramir.”

“I am sure you will fill her head with it. I,” and with this he kissed her, his hand cupping her womb, “would have preferred to stay home in Edoras, with you, and watched our babe grow.” Abruptly, he released her. “Béma! We have no privacy.”

Aefre turned to see Princess Lothiriel gingerly moving towards them, a glass of something in each hand. She was looking around, embarrassed and almost shy. “I am sorry,” she began quietly. “I thought I saw Éomer King and thought to bring him something cool to drink.”

_*Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing and I’ll bet you’d love to get five minutes alone with my king-*_

“That is very generous of you, my lady.” Aefre had the manners her husband lacked. “I understand he is looking forward to seeing the Hanging Gardens with you.”

“You should get him to take you shopping,” Gamling muttered, his arms crossed over his chest and looking oh so very bored.

“Sir?” Lothiriel also had the manners this Marshal didn’t have. She shrugged, ignoring the comment. “I hope he doesn’t think I’m being too forward.” She leaned and whispered to Aefre, “I hope my maid servant will stay behind. I have never seen her act this over-protective before!” She shrugged, obviously beyond mildly irate. “If you see that clammy-palmed lordlet from Lamedon, hide me, please. He keeps slobbering all over my hand and is already speaking of the many children I shall give him when he approaches my father to have me marry him.” She scrunched her nose. “He is odorous and slimey. And Thelielveril thinks he is wonderful and pesters me when Éomer comes near. Is it so awful to spend a few minutes alone with a person? Just so you can get to know them?” 

Both Aefre and Gamling heard the wistfulness in her voice and their eyes met over her head. Gamling winked and nodded. “Look who is about to join us?” He bobbed to Éomer, reaching out and took both glasses from him. “I will take that. Punch for my wife and nasty wine for me.” He glared mockingly at Aefre. “You owe me.”

Aefre was completely nonplussed. “Éomer King, the princess thought you would be thirsty, so she brought an extra glass with her.”

_*Oh yeah there are sparks*_

Aefre’s grin was borderline evil as she watched Lothiriel hand him the second goblet. “Sire, the Princess was just telling us how much she admires Firefoot and wondered if you could perhaps allow her to see him up close.”

Lothiriel look was of shock, Éomer’s as well. It dawned on them both at the same time what the newlywed was suggesting. “I believe I could make some time tommo-”

“Tonight, sire.” Gamling cut in. 

“You did say you would like to see Firefoot this eve?” Aefre picked up smoothly where her husband left off. “Now would be the perfect time. The stable is quiet…”

“The stable is empty, Aefre.”

“With less hustle and bustle and noise and goings on, Firefoot would be calm and amenable-“

“Like some wenches.”

Aefre hissed at him between her teeth to hush. Both Marshal and Marshal’s lady smiled benignly at both princess and king.

“I… don’t mind if that is what the princess desires.”

“I would love to. If, that is alright with you?” They both promised to not be long and then they strolled off, but not before Éomer posted a ‘thumbs up’ behind the princess back. They waited until the two went around the corner and down the stairs.

“That should give them an hour.” Aefre looked at her husband. He was still watching the stairwell, where the two had disappeared. “What do you think?”

“I think you are tired.” He escorted her to the doorway. Once there, he signaled the closest high-ranking Rider he could see. “Éothain? Would you escort my wife to our chambers?”

“But Gamling-”

“I need to do something. It won’t take but a few minutes.”

“Then I can wait-”

“No, you go on.” He tenderly pushed her in the direction of Éothain, who looked as confused as Aefre. “I will be along and you are drained. Go.” He watched as Aefre said her good nights to the King and Queen of Gondor before making a beeline, down the stairs.

From there, it was easy to find the Royal Stables where Elessar had the Rohirrim party’s horses kept. He tiptoed quietly, eventually hearing Éomer and Lothiriel murmuring together ahead of him. Whatever they were talking about, it made Éomer laugh appreciatively. As they reached the stables, the street glowed for a moment before it went dark again as the door shut behind them.

In the back of Gamling’s brain, his conscious pricked him; if he hadn’t been drinking strange wine, if he wasn’t a little bit tipsy, if he had his head on straight, he would not be contemplating what he was about to do. But he pushed it to the farthest reaches and refused to listen. His own fondest memory was an uninterrupted afternoon in a glade, with lunch and several skins of wine; along with conversation with a feisty woman he now called his wife. If his king wanted five minutes alone to kiss a beautiful woman who liked him, by Béma, he was going to make sure he had those five minutes.

He laid his ear to the door. It was quiet. Very gently, he lowed the outer bar into its slot, effectively barring anyone from getting out. He patted the door. “One hour, sire. I will be back in one hour!”

*** 

When Gamling reached his and Aefre’s assigned room, she was out of her finery and in a white linen sleeping gown. She sat on a stool, with her hair down, counting the strokes of her boar’s hair brush.

“Let me.” He took the brush from her and ran his fingers through her hair, a thick, heavy, mahogany mane that reached beyond her waist. He brushed it away from her neck and bent to nuzzle her along her neckline. “I love how you smell.” He set the brush down and pulled her up by her hand. “Leave it down tonight.” He escorted her to the bed and followed her up. When he pulled her gown over her head, she pressed his hand to her stomach, where small hands and feet were fluttering in their own dance.

In the pure joy of his marital bed and in feeling for the first time the movements of his unborn child, he completely forgot about Éomer and Lothiriel, locked in the barn.

*** 

 

Lýðrest - Sweet


	43. 42 - To be Rohirrim

**__**

Rider of the Mark

 **__**

Chapter 42

 **__**

To be Rohirrim

The King of Rohan sat at the small table; head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut, blonde hair spilling loosely over his shoulders. That he hadn't slept the night before was obvious; he was still in his state finery, bits of straw dusting his shoulders and the seat of his leggings. Aefre figured if she looked closely, she would find some in his hair. She glared over Éomer’s shoulder at her husband, unseen by the young king. This was _*his*_ fault and Gamling knew she knew it.

"She has brothers, you know," Éomer moaned. "Three!" Without looking up, he lifted three fingers. "They want my arse."

"Princess Lothiriel's father-"

"Wants my head!" He peered over splayed fingers. 

"Sire-"

"Can you hide me? Sneak me out of Gondor?"

"Sire, really-"

"Really!" Éomer snapped back before howling, "Nothing! Happened!" Finally, he lifted his head, anguish crossing fair features. "I swear it. I didn't touch her!" His eyes flitted between Gamling and Aefre. "She asked to see my horse! You were there! You saw! She seemed interested, how could I refuse? But both doors were stuck, latched on the outside! I tried all night... well, not all night, but - If I ever find out who locked those doors..." He dropped his head back down in his hands, missing the shocked looks that passed between his Marshal and his Lady. "I'm doomed. Doomed."

Gentle hands kneaded the back of his neck. "Sire." Aefre's voice was soothing, "Surely, if you sit down, Ruler to Ruler-"

"He lunged at me!" Éomer jerked away from her and turned to face his advisor's wife. "She held him back!" He pounded the table, making the small bowl of fruit jump. "That little tiny thing hauled him back and told me to just leave and go!" He held his index finger and thumb a hair apart. "I feel _*this*_ big. I am King of Rohan, a seasoned warrior, and veteran of Orc and Mountain Men skirmishes. I survived Pelennor and the Black Gate! I led men to their death! To life! And I feel _*THIS*,_ " he shoved the two digits in Aefre's face, "big!" He dropped his head back in his hands. "I can hide until dark. I'll take Dréogan, feed him apples, ride him back to Edoras"

"Really, my lord, don't you think you are over-reacting?"

"Over-Reacting? OVER-REACTING?" He repeated it louder and came to his feet, towering over the woman who for some reason did not back down. "Lady Aefre! I just spent the night locked in a barn with a princess! Not a whore or a barmaid or a serving woman from home. The only daughter of Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth! Do you realize what the connotations are?"

Aefre shot a look to her husband, who shrugged and attempted to look interested in the garish tapestry on the wall. She shook her head and glared angrily. _*I'll deal with you later tonight, you slugabed!*_ With a well-practiced hand, she pushed the young king into a comfortable armchair and pulled up a footstool, sinking gratefully into it. "Sire-"

"Would you stop 'sire-ing' me? At least in private?" Éomer rested the side of his head on a propped hand. "Gamling? What am I going to do?"

_***She's a Princess. She’s not dumpy or ugly or a chatterbox, but she's a Princess and you are sooooooo doomed! YES!***_

"Have you thought about flowers?"

"Flowers?" Éomer looked confused "Why would I think about... what do flowers have to do with this?"

Aefre was now openly glowering at her husband. Gamling, for all his bravado...

_***I'm so dead. Move over Dréogan. You'll have plenty of company tonight! ***_

...smiled gamely. Aefre shook her head, shoulders drooping. 

"Lady Aefre. You look very tired. Is this crass Horse Lord not allowing you any rest since your marriage?" Gentle fingers lifted her chin and for a moment, Aefre saw the ghost of Théoden flicker across the features, the eyes of his nephew.

"I... I..."

"She's pregnant."

"Pregnant?" For the first time all morning, Éomer’s face split into a grin. "She’s having a baby?"

"That's usually what 'pregnant' means, Éomer." Gamling's voice was droll, but Aefre could see the smile and pride on his face.

Éomer grabbed both of her hands. "Small wonder he was in such a hurry to get you to the glade and wrapped in his cloak!" He turned and pointed at Gamling, Aefre’s hand still clutched in the King’s grasp. "I told you! I told you, on the top of Minas Tirith, remember? Horse Lordlets and Shield Toddlers!" He turned back to Aefre, finally taking in the looser clothing, and the aura of calm that surrounded the normally bustling woman. "Dunharrow?"

"Yes."

"YES!" Éomer pumped his fist in the air, before dropping it in concern. "I have no business dumping my problems on you." He made to stand. "I'll-"

Aefre leaned over, shoving him backwards into the chair he was rising from. "You'll sit! And listen!"

Éomer turned to Gamling. "Is she always this forceful?"

"Yes."

_***Especially under the covers***_

"Poor sot."

_***You don't know the half...***_

"Sire... Éomer. Back to the subject at hand. Lothiriel. Do you like her?"

Éomer blinked, "Well... yes..."

"Does she like you?"

Éomer’s eyes flickered back and forth. "Why... I think so..."

Aefre had placed both hands demurely on his knees. "Despite the circumstances, would you like to see her again? Get to know her better?"

"Aefre, I-"

"You _*need*_ to talk to her father, Éomer." Aefre clasped his hands in hers. "Not as Ruler to Ruler, but man to man. You need to calm down and you need to sort yourself. Imrahil will respect you the more for it. Tell you what," she patted his hand reassuredly, "you need to go for a ride-"

"Aefre, I-"

"A loooong ride. Take my husband with you." If Gamling heard the stress on the words 'my husband', he didn't let on. "Béma knows, Firefoot and Dréogan need the exercise. Leave the walls of the city and get your mind cleared. Think what you wish to say to Imrahil and to Lothiriel. Be honest and truthful, but most of all, be yourself." The tall, young Rohirrim made to rise. "Oh, and bathe and change clothes before you ride. You don't want to show up in your slept and then ridden in wedding finery. Gamling will join you in the stables in half an hour. Now go!" She shooed him away and waited for the sound of the door latching behind him.

Gamling cleared his throat. "I think I'll change in my riding clothes and go on down-"

"You'll do no such thing! Gamling! How cou-"

Strong arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Have I told you lately how amazing you are?"

"-ld you... if I recall correctly, you bellowed your satisfaction with several of my more endearing traits quite a bit last night!"

"I did not bellow. Tilt your head."

"You did so," Aefre tilted and was immediately assaulted by Gamling's mouth. He pulled her in tighter. "You could have woken the dead!"

"Didth noth!"

"Didth tooth!" Aefre chided, mimicking back.

Gamling raised his head. "I couldn't have woken the dead. Aragon already did that and released them!" Gamling’s hands slid around, gently cupping her breast, his mouth canvassing the nape of her neck.

“If you think to distract me-“

“Perith thuh thouth.”

Aefre was melting, the warmth of his mouth, his embrace, becoming blessedly familiar and welcoming and…

“Am I distracting you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

***

 

An hour later, rosy-cheeked and well satisfied, Aefre strolled along the hanging gardens in the upper levels of Minas Tirith, with Lothiriel. Gamling had left the walls with the Rohirrim Ruler, the two now no doubt, kicking up dust on the surrounding fields outside of the city boundaries. The moment Gamling had left – smiling, in fact, strutting, oh no mustn’t forget the strutting, tail-bird – preening of a man who has a well pacified wife – Aefre quickly sponged off in cool water and brushed her hair until it crackled. She sent a serving girl to find the whereabouts of the Princess and changed into a high-waisted gown, clearly revealing her expanding waistline. Within a short time, she returned with news that the Princess was ‘resting’ in her rooms. The way the girl rolled her eyes, told Aefre that Lothiriel was doing anything BUT resting. Getting directions to her chambers, Aefre made her way through long hallways, twisting passages before finding the proper door, guarded by a proper harridan. Using every bit of her noble Shield Maiden persona, Aefre made her way into the luxurious rooms, to find the Princess sitting on a stool, half- finished needlework, dangling in a listless hand and staring off into the hills showing through the parted drapes of her balcony. Despite the badgering of her middle-aged serving woman, Aefre crossed the room and sat down in the chair across from the young woman. 

“Lothiriel?”

The girl turned tear-reddened eyes towards the Rohirric noblewoman. “Oh, Lady Aefre. What happened? What did I do? Ada is-”

“Angry?” The girl nodded dejectedly. “Aye. As I figured. As he should be.” She reached over and touched the Princess’s hand. “Will you answer a few questions for me?” Again, the girl nodded. “Did Éomer behave in any improper manner while you were trapped in the barn?” 

Lothiriel’s eyes opened wide, in shock, in horror. “N’uma! NO! He was a gentleman; saw to my comfort. He… he… gave me his cloak to sleep in!” 

“Hmm.” Aefre hummed thoughtfully. “Did he sleep with you in the cloak?”

“MADAM!” The princess’s servant was aghast. “That is no question to ask-“

“I did not ask you. I asked her.” Aefre turned her steely gaze back on the frightened young woman. “Did he-“

“No!” Lothiriel seemed to be shocked at the volume of her voice and promptly lowered it. “No, he… well, he slept next to me, but not wrapped up in it with me.” 

“Oh. Good.”

“Good?” Lothiriel questioned. “Why is that?”

“Had he spent the night with you wrapped in his cloak together, by Rohirrim custom, you would be considered married.”

“OH!” It was squeaked.

“WHAT?” The serving woman shouted. “I do not know what kind of barbaric rituals your wild people practice, but I’ll not let you lay as much as a finger on my lady. She will make a fine Belfalas marriage, I’ll make sure of it!” The woman was in a fine temper and only got angrier as she noticed Aefre smile. “I’ll not let her marry some… some… backwoods, wild thing from the middle of nowhere, where there are no harbors or ships or culture or-“

“Do you have a name?” Aefre interrupted smoothly.

“Thelielveril.” She drew up haughtily. “I am Thelielveril and I have been the Princess’s servant since she was born!” 

“Ah. Thelielveril.” Aefre appeared to muse. “I suspect you could use a wild thing in your bed sometime. Would you like me to arrange that?”

The woman gasped angrily, jaw flapping like a landed fish let loose on the ground. “Why! I never!”

“Obviously.” Aefre retorted tartly. She turned back to the snickering young woman. “Princess, do you like Éomer at all?”

Lothiriel’s eye went languid. “Oh yes, he’s so-“

“Princess!” Thelielveril interrupted hotly, “I can see where this wretched excuse of a noble woman - oh my!”

Aefre stood up to her full height, seemingly to tower over the well-padded crone and looking down her nose most imperiously. “I am many things; however, unlike you, I have said nothing while you have heaped abuse and crudity on my country, my honor, and my King!” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “While you sat and cowered in your pampered halls, Éomer King rode to the aid of Gondor! His sister killed the WitchKing! Might I remind you, Théoden King lies in honored state in the very halls of Minas Tirith, along side Gondor’s kings at this very moment! Éomer is an honorable man, a King in his own right and considered good friend to Aragon, Elessar, King of Gondor! Wild thing, he might be; your Princess can do no better!” Aefre stepped back, hand splayed across the soft hump of her stomach. “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed. “This display of temper can not be good for my baby!” She turned to a wide-eyed Lothiriel. “I need some air.”

“Oh, the balcony is right-“

“No, I’m thinking a walk through the hanging gardens.” She smiled serenely. “Please join me.”

“The Princess is not allowed-“

“I didn’t ask you, did I?” Thelielveril backed down, gasping. “I thought not. Princess?”

A mischievous light that Aefre decided Éomer found delightful shone in Lothiriel’s eyes. “I would very much like to accompany you to the Hanging Gardens.” She laid her needlework down to the side and stood up, straightening her gown.

“Your ladyship, this is most improper! Your father-“

“If it is so improper, I suspect you’ll tell him soon enough!” Lothiriel replied stiffly. “Lady Aefre, if you’ll lead the way.” The two women left the room, sweeping down the hallway and moving rapidly towards the gardens.

“How quickly will your tiring woman inform your father of your departure?”

“The moment we left.” Lothiriel was grinning, reveling in her freedom. “He confined me to my rooms! My Ada has never done that!” 

“Listen carefully, Princess.” The two entered the cool, sheltered passageway, greenery hanging in open arbors and the tinkling of water coming from various fountains. “It is said Eowyn and Faramir fell in love among this beauty. Perhaps, it will aid you as well. Is it safe to assume you like the King of Rohan and would like to get to know him better?”

“Yes, of course!” 

Aefre found a bench next to a fountain and sank down, artfully arranging her skirts before dropping her hand, fingers trailing in the cool water. “Éomer is very taken with you. Nothing would please the people of Rohan more than to see their King fall in love and marry.” She splashed lightly in the water. “I am very sorry to tell you this, but the two of you had a horrific joke played on you and it was perpetuated by my husband. Now you and my king are paying too steep a price and I wish to rectify it. Ah-“ she nodded in the direction from which they’d come. “Here comes your… Ada?... now. I am going to want to speak to him alone.”

“I think,” Lothiriel winked, “that I can help arrange that.” She leaned over and whispered, “Make much of your pregnancy. Ada is too well bred a gentleman to be overly rude.”

“I’m counting on that. Ah, Prince Imrahil. How nice of you to join us.”

The Prince stood tall, very angry. There were a few extra lines and several more gray hairs than he had had the night before. Lothiriel had inherited the deep emerald green eyes of her father and his smile did not reach the jeweled depths. “Lady Aefre.” He turned to his daughter. “Lothiriel-“

“Ada, please.” Lothiriel gently placed her hand on her father’s arm. “Listen to what Lady Aefre has to say. Please.”

The Prince’s shoulders were set. “This is not open for discussion.”

“Lady Aefre,” Lothiriel gestured to the Rohirrim woman, “rode from Edoras to Gondor on her horse.”

“I know.”

“Astride.”

“I know.”

“And she is pregnant. Can you believe it?” Imrahil’s eyebrow rose, the expression on his face unchanging. “Are you thirsty? I’m very thirsty!” Lothiriel gushed. “Why don’t I bring you something back? Something cool.” The Princess stood on tiptoe and kissed her father on the cheek. “Would you keep Lady Aefre company? I won’t be long.” The young woman turned and fled the corridor.

“I am being set up.” Imrahil watched his daughter disappear around a corner.

“Yes, you are.” 

“I don’t like it.” 

Aefre lifted her fingers from the fountain, flicking the water from the tips. She stood up slowly and laid her hand in the crook of his elbow. “I do not blame you. Walk with me a ways, please and tell me of Belfalas and Dol Amroth. I have never ventured there and I wish to see it through your eyes.”

“Lady Aefre-“

“Please. Saes – I believe that is the elvish word? Indulge an expectant mother.”

The Prince narrowed his eyes, seeing through the Rohirrim woman’s ruse, but as his daughter had indicated, he was too well bred and mannerly to be openly rude. Slowly, he began with the great harbors, crystal blue and sparkling water as far as the eye could see; great libraries with piles of scrolls, galleries of art, paintings, ledgers, critiques and histories of Numenor, of scholars debates…

“It sounds lovely. Lothiriel’s is very lucky to be raised in such splendor.” Aefre had looped her arm fully around his, leaning on the man’s spare frame slightly. “I can see why many of your people would consider mine wild.”

The prince stiffened. “After what your king did last night-“

“Sir, last night was not Lothiriel’s fault, nor was it the doing of Éomer’s.”

Imrahil stopped, his hand tightening slightly on Aefre’s. “Your king made sure it will be impossible for my daughter to make a decent marriage! He compromised her honor and sullied her name!” He raised a finger to cut off Aefre’s angry retort. “My sons and I have searched the city, not to behead him, but to corral him into a marriage contract. He owes us that!”

“HE owes you nothing!” Aefre pulled her arm free and settled both hands on her hips, a scowl Gamling would have recognized planted firmly on her face. “Your daughter asked me last evening what could she do to catch Éomer’s interest. I told her to ask him about his horse so that is my fault. My husband decided to drop the outer bar to entrap them for a short time. If anyone owes you anything, it is my husband and myself!” Aefre moved to stand at the balcony, her hand reaching to lightly touch the hanging pansies from the basket anchored above her head. “Éomer was innocent as was Lothiriel. If he says he did not touch her, he did not.”

“Why?” Imrahil hissed in her ear. “Why would you and your husband to such a horrid thing to your king?” From the profile she presented, he saw her smile benignly. 

“My king is quite the prankster, as well as a meticulous matchmaker. He and his sister consider themselves very merry matchmakers indeed and, in the wake of mischievousness, have brought no less than eight Rohirrim couples to wedded bliss.” She plucked a wilted flower from the plant and laid it on the ledge in front of her. “Somehow, I caught their eye and for some strange reason, Éomer and Éowyn decided that Gamling and myself would make a wonderful couple.” A sharp breeze whipped through the balcony and the dying flower flew from the ledge, drifting off, buffeted by billowing winds. “I don’t know why. He is such a grumpy soul…” 

“While you,” Imrahil finished for her with a smile, “are the very picture of Rohirrim gentility.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that!” Aefre was now flicking minute specks of dirt from the ledge. “Regardless, my husband was supposed to go down and unlatch the barn after a short time.”

“What happened? Obviously he didn’t.”

Aefre turn to face him and realized she could not meet his gaze. “That’s… my fault. My husband and I are, as you know, but newly wed and…” Aefre had been fidgeting prettily, before dropping her head and her hands to her side.

“And he is enjoying the comforts of his marriage bed.” Imrahil’s fingers touched her under the chin, lifting shrewd eyes upwards. “Would you like to know what I think?” Aefre didn’t answer and he didn’t really give her time to formulate one. “I think you are an intelligent woman and that you do not fidget. I think you would easily have a lesser man wrapped around your finger and I hope your husband puts his foot down with you when necessary. Regardless of the cause and whose fault, it does not change the fact that your King and my daughter spent seven hours alone and unsupervised. In my country, that ruins her reputation.”

“In my country, it would be seen for what it is! Every one would laugh and go on. The barn is NOT the most private place in the world for the wooing of a virgin!” Aefre eyes were flashing in sudden anger and Imrahil stepped back in the ferocity of it. As quickly as her temper flew, Aefre took a deep breath and calmed herself. “Sir?” she asked quietly, “do you love your daughter?” 

“Do I-“ Imrahil gasped. “How can you ask such a thing? Of course I love her! I want what’s best for her!”

Again, Aefre smiled serenely. She linked her arm back through his and proceeded to walk him down the promenade. “You have told me of your country; let me tell you of mine. We are but a simple people; farmers, sheepherders. We breed and train horses, it is our gift. The majority of Rohirrim are as well versed with the lineage and bloodlines of their horses, as they are with their own ancestors. We have our own language – very few speak Westron. There are no great harbors. We fish in rivers, shallow rushing waters with many rocks. We have no great libraries; in fact most Rohirrim cannot read. Our history is kept in song; we hold our minstrels and bards in high esteem. We brew fine ales and wines; we toast and sing to birth, marriage, death.” 

Aefre stopped and turned to look up at the tall Prince. “Compared to yours, our people are wild, untamed. Lothiriel’s servant openly called me a barbarian, my king a wild thing. Would you thrust your daughter into such with little warning? In a place so foreign? She couldn’t communicate with the staff; does she know anything of the breeding of horses? Will she blush at the workings of it? We are an earthy, straightforward people. Women are trained to fight because Orcs and Wild men roam our lands. Will she faint at the sight of blood?” Aefre stopped and waited for a moment, allowing her words to sink in completely. “Every luxury, every delicacy your daughter takes for granted, does not exist in Rohan. Éomer told my husband your daughter wears more wealth dangling from her ears, than our people will see in a lifetime.” She waited a few more moments before continuing. “She likes Éomer. And he likes her. Let him woo her properly. Give them time.”

Imrahil was clearly torn. Pride, love, confusion flickered across aristocratic features. “Time. Give them time?” 

“What can time hurt? They get to know each other. They have time to settle to the idea. They learn about the other’s culture, expectations.” Again, a gentle hand was laid on Imrahil’s brocade-covered elbow. “Éomer King is many things; a noble and honorable man. If he says he did not touch her, he did not.” Aefre gazed over the Prince’s shoulder to see Éomer, freshly bathed and dressed, still rosy from his ride and her husband standing stern, serious, behind him. Éomer looked regal, imposing, calm, collected…

Scared to death.

_***If this child is a girl, how will Gamling deal with her suitors?***_

“I believe my King wishes to speak to you.” Aefre nodded in Eomer’s direction. “Please, give him a chance. Hear him out.” She stepped around, smiling at the young man. As she passed him, heading towards her husband, she patted him on the arm. “Keep your temper, bargain for a long betrothal. Rohan is VERY different from Belfalas.”

Gamling’s eyes raked his wife from head to toe, “I thought you hated that dress. You said it makes you look-“

“Pregnant. I am pregnant and I used my pregnancy to my advantage.” She saw Gamling peering over her shoulder at Éomer calmly walking towards Imrahil. “It will be fine. You had a good ride?” 

She waited for the tall redhead to turn and take her hand. “Very good. Éomer yelled and cursed and complained to his heart’s content. Then he thought he saw… what IS her name?”

“Lothiriel.”

“Loth-i-re-ahl… why couldn’t she have a normal name?” They turned the corner and could no longer see or hear what was taking place between the two rulers.

“She has a lovely name,” Aefre retorted. “Éomer thought he saw her? At such a great distance?” 

Gamling clenched her hand tightly. “Wishful thinking!” he spat tersely.

“GAMLING!”

_*She isn’t fat or dumpy or mouthy!*_

“How sure are you about her?”

Aefre thought for a moment, noticing he was leading her back to their chambers. “She is very nice. She is spirited, not shy; a little bit on the mischievous side. She’ll make a good match for Éomer. They just need a little… Gamling? Why are you taking us back to our rooms? “

_*NOT! Dumpy dammitdammit to Mordor!*_

“You need a nap.”

“I do not need a nap!”

“Aefre! I need you to take a nap!”

His wife huffed once. “What is it with men thinking women should sleep through their pregnancies?” 

“I have just spent the last few hours listening to Éomer curse the woman, only to be followed by him… lauding her grace and beauty! You do NOT want to know what he compared her lips to! I am tired, grumpy, and I need you to take a nap!”

She stopped suddenly and tapped her lip. “I think you are needful of the nap and you simply wish for something soft to hold on to!”

_***grrrrr where’d she go? Dammit!***_

“Aefre!” he gritted between his teeth in attempt to keep his voice down, “You are the most exasperating wench a man could be married to!” He grabbed her elbow and they continued back down the corridor. “You act as if that is all I think about!” 

“Hah! It is all you think about and if I hear one word of you complaining that you are never getting physical comfort since the marriage, you will sleep in the barn!”

Gamling held her firmly by the elbow, nodding curtly at passing servants in such a manner, they cringed and felt sorry for the woman he was leading wherever he was leading her. “I heard what you told Éomer; what did you tell Imrahil?” 

“I told him the truth.”

The two reached their room. Gamling waited until both were inside and he back-heeled the door shut. “You did not tell him I locked him in the barn-” 

Aefre was not about to capitulate. If her husband knew she had told the Prince her husband had locked his daughter in the barn, she would lose the argument before it began. “I told him the barn was no place to woo a virgin!”

Gamling barked in laughter. “That’s rich! I did-” He clamped his mouth shut.

Aefre nodded her head. “You came to my bed no fumbling virgin. I am not jealous of what comfort you took before me. That would include Eadignes.” Gamling inhaled sharply. “Besides,” and with this she grinned slightly in fond memory, “I lost mine in the barn too!” She bounced up and down on her toes several times. “I see no need to let Imrahil know that!” Her tone was very saucy.

Gamling’s arms went around her. “I am glad for what you are doing for Eadignes.” His nose was in her hair. “I do not know any woman who would be so giving to one of her kind.”

“Unfair things happen to good people.” With this, she looked at her husband. “She is good people.” She nuzzled him with her nose. “So the barn is special for you as well?”

Emboldened by his wife’s outburst, he openly admitted, “I was 16 summers. Her name was Gerád and she was a bit older than me. I used to take messages to Aldburg after I got my first cloak and she worked in the kitchens.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “She was patient and thorough but she was gone the next summer. I have no idea what happened to her.” He shrugged. “Probably married a farmer.” He flicked her nose. “Your turn.”

“Lufian. Two weeks before we were to be married.” By now, she was pulling on the ties of Gamling’s trousers. “It was raining and we were alone in the barn mating a stallion with a mare. It was her first time, so I was holding her in the mating stall. I… well… I had a very good view of the proceedings and… we couldn’t get into the hayloft fast enough.” Gamling’s leathers were dropping off with disgusting ease.

“I am glad he is a happy memory.” His hand fussed the lacings into a non-cooperative knot.

***damned laces bane of my existence!***

The waist of his leggings was now loose and Aefre’s hands slid under his tunic to his back. One hand grazed the ugly scar on his side and she lingered on it. “You make me equally happy.”

For some time, there was no sound, save the sound of clothing hitting the floor, the fusion of bodies, of willing acceptance and mutual satisfaction. 

Eventually…

“Do you think Imrahil will kill him?” Gamling lay on his back, Aefre tucked under his arm…

_***where you belong!***_

… the fingers of his right hand and her left hand interlaced.

“No. He will hear Éomer out. Apparently, they do not have the same sense of humor the Rohirrim have and the Prince of Dol Amroth is severely aggrieved.” Gamling scowled at her words. “But as long as he believes that Éomer didn’t touch her and the barn isn’t a very romantic place…” her voice trailed off.

“Earthy thing,” Gamling whispered. Somehow, he pulled her in closer, tucking her head beneath his chin and waited for the inevitable deepening of breath from her. The mid-wife assured him that her need for sleep around the clock was normal, as would be the more frequent trips to the chamber pot. As his breathing began to match hers, he came to the inevitable conclusion that she was a very lucky Shield madam.

He did not notice that outside their own balcony, it was now raining.

 

*** 

At dinner that evening, the hall, nobility and visiting dignitaries all buzzed as Éomer danced attendance on Lothiriel. If they were expecting an announcement of a formal betrothal or a wedding date, they were sorely disappointed but it was obvious the Rohirrim King had come to some sort of agreement and terms with the Prince of Dol Amroth. If any of the men who attempted to dance with her after dinner were angered when Éomer cut in on them, they had the good sense to say nothing. The King of Rohan’s sheer height alone was enough to put any normal man back on his heels and Éomer used every inch to advantage. The slimy Lamedonian who bothered Lothiriel at the wedding, withdrew his attentions and focused on not so well-placed prey. Any available male that approached her was promptly growled at and every time it happened, Gamling grinned idiotically until Aefre would poke him in the ribs.

“You planned this!”

Gamling stood at the edge of the room, watching his wife being squired around the dance floor by the even tall by Rohirrim standards Erkenbrand. His eyes never left her.

“I have no idea-“

“Éomer,” Imrahil continued smoothly, “has a good advisor and marshal in you. Your wife is a fortunate woman.”

_***Of course, she is. I determined that without your help-***_

“Thank you for your kind words. As for planning this, I have no idea-“

“Yes, you do.” Imrahil stressed. Gamling saw a younger version of the Prince slide to his other side. “Your wife admitted that Éomer set the two of you up and you were looking to… retaliate.”

_***She did? She did??? That’s it! She’s sleeping in the stables tonight!***_

“If that is the case,” Gamling lifted a fine red wine glass from a servant walking by with a tray. “We failed as we were specifically looking for a princess that was fat, dumpy, and had the personality of a warg rider.” 

Imrahil hissed, his breath jerking inward. His youngest son laughed heartily.  
“Well, you did not miss by much! I have often questioned my sister’s personality many times! Ah, Ada,“ he waved his hand at his father, “leave off. I only tease.” The Prince visibly relaxed. “Éomer told me he has decided on a pre-betrothal gift for Lothiriel.”

“Did he?” Imrahil asked, his eyes never leaving his daughter or the King of Rohan. The two had retreated to a quieter corner, Éomer’s blond locks bent over Lothiriel’s dark tresses. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. M’lord, Gamling-”

“Just Gamling.”

“-what is a Nihtweard and a Hæfern?”

Gamling smiled and visibly relaxed, as he watched Erkenbrand begin to lead Aefre his way. She was flushed and glowing. It was obvious she needed sleep!

“Nihtweard is a rather spirited mare. She has sleek lines and wonderful well-built legs. She also has a strong gait and is swift of hoof. Éomer had chosen her to breed with his stallion, Firefoot,” Gamling ignored Imrahil’s quiet gasp. “Hæfern is her groom and trainer. He was long a captain in Théoden King’s éored until an injury affected his strength in battle. No doubt he is being left behind to ensure your daughter learns to ride properly.”

Imrahil had the sense to look baffled. “My daughter is an excellent horsewoman. She was taught by the best groomsmen in Dol Amroth.”

“Oh?” Aefre joined the small group, her arm linking with her husband’s. He looked tired, drained. As much as he hated to admit it, he was still recuperating from the last skirmish outside of Edoras and he wearied easily. He also was not sleeping well, still. She overheard the last bit of the conversation. “So your daughter rides astride?”

Now Imrahil was horrified. “My daughter is a lady; she-”

“I ride astride,” Aefre retorted coolly. “Are you saying I’m not a lady?’

Imrahil’s jaw flapped, while Amrothos snickered quietly. “Well… I… I…”

“Because if you said such, I shall have to call you out.” Aefre looked up at her husband, who was not smiling.

Imrahil, however, was now chuckling. “Lady Aefre. You have an amazing sense of humor…”

_***Oh no now you’re in for it, I will let her take you out for that alone…***_

“Are you saying that I am not capable of defending myself?”

_***OH yes, you are dead. A dead prince deaddeaddead that’s my wife…***_

Gamling focused on his elven wine-

_***Too sweet too fruity not enough punch***_

\- seemingly studying the swirling red depths. “She has a morning star,” he murmured into the crystal. “She knows how to use it.”

“Prince Imrahil,” Aefre released her husband and walked behind the Prince and his son, touching the older man as she circled. “Éowyn was not the only woman from Rohan to fight on the fields of Pelennor. Many of our women died and were injured as well. If your daughter fancies herself to be the next Queen of Rohan, she better learn to act like a Rohirrim, speak like a Rohirrim, and to ride like a Rohirrim. She will earn our respect.” She saw Gamling tip his goblet to her in salute, before draining it. “Especially if she is to catch Éomer when he needs a thumping. Gamling,” her husband was showing signs of enjoying the wine a bit too much. He would get very little rest if this kept up. “I would like to retire for the evening. Prince Imrahil, I bid you good evening.” She nodded in deference.

Gamling set his glass down on a nearby tray. “She’s right,” he whispered as he passed the Prince. “Éomer will need thumping a lot.” His own dip was marginal as his dress cloak billowed behind him, moving quietly to catch up with his wife. They exited the noisy ballroom, traveling silently into more reserved halls, the sounds of revelry finally dying away behind them.

“I would have called him out.”

Gamling grunted. 

“I should have called him out! Imagine! A real lady doesn’t ride astride! Where was he born? In a barn?”

“In a palace. Speaking of barns,” Gamling took his wife by the fingertips, “I believe you should sleep in the stables tonight.”

“Me?” she stopped in the middle of the hallway, glowering. “Me? What did I do to warrant that punishment?”

“You,” he patiently tucked her fingers into the crook of his elbow before continuing on, “told the prince we were looking to retaliate for Éomer setting us up. Therefore, you told our secret and you should sleep in the barn.”

“Did it occur to you,” she nodded at the servant scurrying past and waited until the woman moved around the corridor, “that I would not have been in the position of telling him that we were looking to retaliate had you not enjoyed our bed so much last night, you couldn’t be arsed to get out of it long enough to rouse yourself and free the two of them from the prison you locked them into? “

“Not my fault you’re snuggly.”

“What was that?”

Gamling stopped in front of their chamber door and opened it. “I said I am tired and feeling buggered. After you.” He stepped aside to allow her entrance.

“No. I’m going to sleep in the barn.” Aefre turned and got about three steps before a heavy hand grasped her shoulder.

“Sleeping in the barn will not be good for the baby, therefore, I give you reprieve… this time.”

Aefre looked at him shrewdly before walking around him and going into their assigned chambers. “Hmmmmph You like your bolster pillow too much, me thinks.”

_Hmmmmm_

 

***

Éomer walked with Lothiriel in the Hanging Gardens, under the so-called watchful eyes of his Marshal Gamling and Gamling’s wife. When he accompanied her to the market stalls and was balancing bag and box galore, it was whispered he might be smitten.

Two nights before the Rohirrim returned to Rohan, he presented her with a pewter ring with the Rohirrim standard beaten into it. The next morning, after formally resigning the agreements of his forbearers with Gondor, he properly asked for her hand and in the presence of Elessar, the King and the Prince shook hands in agreement.

At that point, Éomer Eadig, King of Rohan, started learning to play the waiting game.


	44. 43 - The Big Man; He speaketh in Riddles

**__**

Rider of the Mark 43

 **__**

The Big Man; He speaketh in silent riddles

“Old man, your wife is waddling.”

Gamling shifted his eyes from watching Aefre maneuver around a table to his king, who sat across the Ogetarts cloth. He glared and moved his piece. “Keep your mind on the game.”

Éomer grimaced and moved his piece, in attempt to keep his pennant safe. He was quacking like a duck under his breath.

Gamling calmly moved another piece, again putting his king’s banner in danger. “If she hears you, she will sit on you.”

Yule was coming soon and the winter was upon them. Gamling’s mother arrived the previous week, before the first storm, to aid with the coming birth of his child; a child who was taking his or her sweet time to come. His mother said the last moon of a pregnancy was the longest and as usual, she was correct. Aefre’s movements were slow and clumsy the last few weeks, the babe dropped to a point so low, her back pained her constantly. Many nights, Gamling rubbed oils made from one of Elrond’s mixtures into his wife’s back in aid to loosen tight and pulled muscles. He ached with her.

Éomer moved his piece again. “Can… can I ask you a personal question?” Gamling raised an eyebrow. “How… how do you… you know… _do it…_ with her belly in the way?” Gamling stared angrily before moving his piece and setting it down rather forcefully, making the pieces on the cloth bounce. Éomer knew when to lower his head. He moved his piece without looking. “I am sorry, old man… it’s just I hope in a few years, I’ll-”

“You will have to figure it out.” Again, Gamling moved his piece. 

Éomer looked at the game in disgust. “I give up. You will chase me all night if I do not.”

Gamling wasn’t paying attention. He was watching his wife interact with Eadignes. It looked as if the girl were begging, pleading. He knew what she was asking, Béma knew she asked him hundreds if not thousands of times the same question.

_Any news? Any news of Willan?_

None. None at all. 

Initially Éomer and Gamling told those who asked that Willan was running an errand for the king; they thought he would return by harvest and if not by harvest, then before the first snowfall. That had not come to be. Éomer was chaffing because messengers between Rohan and Dol Amroth slowed to nothingness due to the weather. He lived for the missives from his bride-to-be. Éomer had gifted Lothiriel with a horse – a black mare with a dainty step and at her request, a crass old captain for a groomsman to teach her to ride ‘in the Rohirrim style’ as well as to instruct her in the Rohirrim language. Imrahil winced at the word ‘astride’ but Lothiriel spent some time with the Rohirrim women and she made her point very clear that is she were going to be Queen of Rohan, well, she would have the Rohirrim’s respect rather than ire. And that meant leggings and riding astride! On top of that, Éowyn was planning her late spring wedding to Faramir and more often than not, the women had their heads together with that. Much material was sifted through, a new wardrobe being made for her. 

So much giggling, it gagged him. 

Eadignes was looking at Éomer, hopefully, before dropping her head and going the other way.

“I worry for Willan.”

Éomer started to reset the board, start the game anew, before giving up and putting the pieces in the pouch. “I do as well. Sometimes I think to send another, but…” he shook his head, biting his lip, “I’ll not send man after man in. Not yet.” Gamling nodded. “I wish we had more proof, someone besides Cenedan’s word.”

“Cenedan’s word should be enough.”

“I agree.”

Éomer stood up and picked up the pouch. “Your mother says we are in for a hard winter. Many storms.” He shook his head and left the table. 

As he watched Éomer leave the hall, Gamling wondered if the storms his mother predicted were the same Galadriel also spoke of that previous summer. Somehow, he didn’t think so. 

*** 

Underneath many quilts and blankets, Gamling lay curled up with his wife. He was shivering. She was in a sweat. 

Their babe was most active at night. Sometimes, when he spooned up to her and curled his hand around her womb, his Little Thumper would settle down.

Tonight, unfortunately, was not one of those nights. Aefre’s sleep was intermittent, and she had gotten up at least once in the middle of the night to visit the chamber pot. Gamling felt guilty that he had somehow done this to her, but his joy at watching his child that he planted grow made him swell with pride.

There was a low glow in the room; the fire was burning near to the grate. The shutters were closed and heavy banners were hung in front, an attempt to keep out the bitter cold. It also muffled the late night noise in the city and around Meduseld. So he was concerned when in the dark, there was a hurried knock at the door. Aefre was sleeping fretfully, so Gamling pulled on his leggings, lit the small bedside light next to the bed, and hurried to the door, opening it a crack.

One of the night watchmen stood in the hall, a lamp in his hand. “Sir. A rider has come in. You need to come.”

“At this time of night? In the cold? What fool would be out riding in the dark?”

The watchman was still in his winter woolens, snow now melting on the floor. “I woke Éomer King first and he told me to send for you and then to get Eadignes. She is closer than Hildegard.” 

“Eadignes?” Aefre appeared at Gamling’s elbow. She was pulling a long shawl about her shoulders. “Why would he call for Eadignes?”

The watchman appeared to be at a loss for words. His jaw flapped several times before he finally blurted. “It is Willan. Willan. He came flying to the gates like a madman being chased by ghouls or something. His face,” and with this, the man motioned around his eye, “he’s either hit something or something hit him. It looks as if he’s been beaten something fierce.”

Aefre gasped as Gamling threw the door open wide. He headed out and down the hallway, before his wife called after him. “Slow down, you oaf! I cannot keep up and I cannot see!” He turned to see her trying to scurry, holding her shawl around her with one hand and clutching yesterday’s discarded tunic in the other. He snatched it from her, throwing it on, before taking her hand and hurrying as fast as she could go down the maze of hallways.

They entered the Great Room, several lamps already lit, to see Éomer just as barely clad as Gamling, squatting in front of a chair, with a tall figure slumped in it. Éomer saw them first and got up, long strides catching the two before they reached the chair. “He’s all right, he will live, but someone had a heavy hand and I intend to find out who.” He took Aefre by the shoulder. “He’s a tough Rohirrim, our Willan is.”

There was a ruckus in the hall, footfalls slapping at the wooden floor and Eadignes screaming as she out ran the messenger. “Where is he? Where is he?” She was in a white shift and shawl, hair loose and flying, and carrying a bag of herbs. She ran past the trio, to the front of the man sitting down. “Oh Béma, no, no…” Aefre grimaced when she joined her.

True to Éomer’s word, someone had used a heavy fist on Willan. His left eye was bruised and swollen shut and his lip was swollen with frozen blood. There was a horrible gash on his forehead that was oozing. Eadignes was shaking as she gently touched each injury. Willan leaned the right side of his face into her hand, cherishing the tender contact.

“Eadignes,” Aefre gently shook her shoulder, “we need to clean him up. I would like to get a closer look at that wound above his eye. Go prepare your sewing kit and painkillers and lore. But first, go and awaken Aelwydd and tell her we need hot water, a cloth and a slab of meat.” She nodded to Gamling. “I have a notebook, that Elrond-”

He was gone before she could finish her sentence.

Willan reached out, his hand gently caressing the curve of her belly. “Aye, this babe is large and I am glad you will be here when Gamling’s Little Thumper arrives, my friend, but… who did this to you?”

Willan looked at Éomer and then back at the main door.

“Are they following you?” Even though Éomer’s voice was soft, it carried authority.

_*yes*_

“Close?”

_*yes*_

“Before sunrise?”

Willan shrugged.

Éomer pulled up a stool and motioned for Aefre to sit. She continued to gently touch and inspect the man’s face. “This gash will need to be sewn. I need to clean the rest of his face.” She continued to inspect him closely. “Sire? I have not asked where you sent Willan, however-”

“I will tell you. It concerns you anyway and I should have allowed Gamling to tell you earlier.” Éomer pulled up another chair and set the lamp he held in the floor next to it. “When we went to war, a man from your former garrison approached Gamling-”

“Cenedan.”

“Aye, Cenedan. He told Gamling and Théoden King your garrison was stolen.”

“Gifre.” Aefre finished for him. “But Gifre claimed to be a cousin to Lufian-”  
Willan began to shake his head ‘no’ emphatically, his fist beating a steady, angry tattoo on the chair arm. Aefre’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Did he do this to you? I will kill him.”

“Aefre,” Éomer interrupted, “Lady Aefre, please. If he lied about his relationship to Lufian and evicted you illegally, what he is done is theft. That is punishable by branding, however-” he swallowed once, not in fear, but an action to calm his ever present temper. “-in addition, according to Cenedan, the garrison’s muster was called to war. They never came, they never arrived.”

“They ignored the call.”

“Aye. That is treason and that is punishable by death. We had no proof that Gifre wasn’t who he said he was and we had no proof that the garrison in the Wold even received the King’s summons except by Cenedan’s word.”

Aefre thought of the scarred mark, lying safe on the mantle in hers and Gamling’s chambers. “But Cenedan is dead.”

“But Cenedan is dead,” Éomer nodded in agreement. “So I sent quiet ears into the Wold to listen and return.” Éomer laid a hand on Willan’s knee. “We needed to know if the garrison wasn’t informed or they decided as a whole not to come and plead ignorance. I am sorry, my friend. Had I had any idea someone would do this to you, I would not have done it.”

Willan covered the king’s hand, dwarfing it with his own and shrugged.

_*It’s okay. It had to be done.*_

There was noise in the halls, as Aelwydd stormed through the doorway, closely followed by Eadignes. A steel grey braid matched Gamling’s mother’s backbone. “Boy! Looks like your face got in the way of someone’s hand.” Willan shrugged again, this time attempting to smile. It made him grimace in pain.

“His forehead needs stitched and his lip looks bad.”

“Just what you do not need this late in your pregnancy, Aefre. But I’m certain you will not rest until you’ve seen him cleaned up and settled.” She stood straight, listening to her back pop. “Take him to your old room. Eadignes uses it now and it’s close to the kitchen. I’ll get a servant to start boiling water and keeping us furnished with it. Also make some tea. We’ll put some painkillers in it and something for the swelling. I’ll bet we have some things in that notebook of the Elf’s that will help as well. Well, what are you waiting for, boy?” She nodded to Willan. “Unless you need help, get to that room so we can fix you up.” Gamling’s mother headed to the kitchens, to rouse someone and after looking at Willan one more time, Eadignes followed.

As Willan rose, Éomer grasped him by the arm. “Did you find out what we needed?”

_*yes*_

“Do you know who he is?”

_*yes*_

“Is he in league with anyone?”

Willan looked at Aefre and hung his head.

_*yes*_

“Willan?” Aefre asked quietly. “Do I know this person?”

_*yes*_

“Someone here?”

_*no*_

“Well,” she stood up slowly, her own back not wanting to move. “That should narrow it down. Let’s get you cleaned up, stitched up and rested before we discuss what you found out later. I am going to put on some clothes. I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight. I’ll meet you in Eadignes’s room.”

The two watched her leave, speaking quietly and telling her husband on the way. Willan started to leave, but Éomer caught him by the arm. “Did you hear enough?”

_*yes*_

“Am I going to be sentencing someone to death?”

_*yes*_

Éomer’s shoulders drooped and Gamling realized the storm Galadriel had spoken of was on Meduseld’s doorstep.

*** 

Early, the following afternoon, Gifre, self-proclaimed Lord of the Wold, showed up in Edoras, looking for his run-away servant.

*** 

 

_tbc_

 

Ogetarts – a game of strategy beloved by the Rohirrim. It still exists today in a more modern form. 


	45. 44 - The chicken comes home to roost

****

Rider of the Mark 44 

****

The Chicken comes home to roost. 

Willan was asleep. His forehead was stitched and there were a few in his upper lip. He slept flat on his back, with a slab of beef over his face. 

He sat stoically while Eadignes stitched him up the night before, crying and cursing between each stitch. Personally, Gamling thought the man was enjoying the attention, but he recognized the love that shown in his one open eye as he followed the former prostitute when she moved around him. Between Eadignes, Aefre, and Aelwydd, he was relatively bathed, cleaned up, stitched up, an elven healing salve on his face, comfreyed and willow barked and now, was sprawled all over Eadignes’s bed. She informed them under no uncertain terms; whatever questioning had to be done could be done later, when she said.

Éomer and Gamling stood in a corner, watching covertly. “When did this happen?” Éomer was curious. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “I mean, I’m not upset by it at all, I think it’s wonderful for both, however I missed it?”

“You’re just upset you and Éowyn didn’t think of it.”

He waved his hand. “Not true.”

Aefre had a pan of bloody water she was preparing to throw out. “Truth, it started when she stitched Gamling when he returned.” She smiled back at the two. “Willan has a way of seeing through the mask to see the not so obvious.” She ducked her and went out the door.

“I know. That’s why I sent him.”

The watchmen at the gates were on lookout for an angry party of men, but still the call went up when a single rider came to the gates, as it was unusual for anyone to be out riding in the cold. Most of those out in the town were children, playing in the snow. Bawdewyne, along with the two eldest in Beornia’s care were in the stables working with Cynn when the haughty man came in to stable his horse. He was rude with the children and barely civil and arrogant to Cynn, who glared at his nastiness with his apprentice and Beornia’s boys. With a nod and a whisper, he sent Bawdewyne the back way into Meduseld. The man perused the stables, with a proprietary air. 

Cynn picked up the horse hoof he was working on and began to remove the loose shoe. “I did not catch your name, rider.”

“Gifre. Lord of the Wold.” He stopped and snarled when he found Willan’s draft horse. “Do you know where the idiot is who owns this horse?"

Cynn did not look up, simply nodded to Beornia’s sons to go. Aglaeca, the eldest balled up; he didn’t want to leave Cynn with the man with the false airs, but Cynn nodded him on. “I have lived in Edoras all my life, son. There are no idiots here.”

“This one snuck in under your nose.” He stopped in recognized contempt when he passed Adenydd. The mare snorted at him angrily, moving to the side closest to Dréogan, who charged the man, only stopped by his gate. “I wondered where you went when you left, Aefre.” At the mention of her name, Cynn tensed. He waited for the question. “This horse-”

“You would be better served if you went up to Meduseld to ask your questions. I am a simple blacksmith and,” and with this, he looked up with a glare, “I would like to finish with this horse before dinner.”

Gifre snorted in derision, before storming from the barn, muttering about ‘uppity peasants who should be kept in their place.’ No sooner than he left, Bawdewyne materialized at Cynn’s side. “I can get a rock-”

“You will do no such thing,” Cynn was back, digging at the errant shoe. “Who did you talk to up there?” 

“Gamling’s mother.” 

Cynn nodded once. “Good.”

“Are you sure I can’t take a-”

Cynn nailed his apprentice with a grey-eyed, steely gaze. “No. But you can take his horse and loosen the shoes.” His attention went back to the shoe he now pulled off. “He is going to want to run before this is over and I intend to slow him down.”

*** 

Gifre walked into a busy, noisy Hall. It was lively with cheerful Riders and smiling, busy servants. The women looked healthy, bustling about here and there. There were several large fireplaces, all of them roaring with a blaze that heated the entire hall, making it warm and comfortable. For a brief moment, his mind pondered on how to make such wealth his, but he decided for now to keep his mind on current holdings and business. Servants, even when they walked in on their own accord, were too valuable a commodity to release, when they decided to leave. Gifre decided to peruse the place, so when he left with that oaf, Dwáslíht in tow, he would pick a few finer items to bring with him. Chances are they wouldn’t miss them.

He realized that the noise in the hall dwindled to a nothingness that was painful. All eyes were on him. He drew himself up, wishing he had a mirror to make sure his braid and hair were in order. Perhaps, when this business were over, he would find the brothel or a willing wench in this place who would appreciate his position and standing in his community. He pasted on a thin, insincere smile. “Greetings,” he spoke to the nearest man with a green cloak. “Perhaps you can help me. I am looking-”

The guard held up his hand, gesturing to a dais at the front of the large hall. “You should speak to the king.”

There was a chair, a throne on the dais, a young man sitting on it, staring with disinterest at Gifre. He looked as a wild thing, a barbarian, in furs as if to ward of the chill that suddenly permeated the room. He wore a thin circlet on his head, obviously signifying his important station. One fur-trimmed boot was propped up on a short stool. His cheek was propped on a mighty fist and he looked bored as Gifre approached with much self-importance. He did not bow or show any deference to the king’s much higher position.

“My apologies, I was under the impression that you were a much older man, Théoden King.”

“You are?” Éomer never moved.

Gifre puffed up, unaware that the scuttling behind him was caused by him. “I am Gifre, Lord Woldenfeld of the Wold.”

“It is my understanding that Woldenfeld is a large garrison overseen by Lufian of the Wold.”

At this point, at all doorways, three to four riders materialized, guarding anything leading from the hall. Gifre continued on, unable to see the activity going on behind him and clueless that he was not in a welcoming place. “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Lufian was killed by a group of wild men some five summers ago. During Yule season, to be specific. I am his kinsman and his heir.”

“I was not aware Lufian had kinsman.”

Gifre shrugged. “It is a distant relation. I was in Minhirath and did not find out for some time that my cousin had passed. Of course, I came home as soon as I found out.” He smiled insincerely.

“Cardolan is a desolate place.”

“True, but Minhirath has its beauty.” He smiled as if in fond memory. “Théoden King-”

Éomer slowly stood up to his full height. “I am sorry to be the bearer of ill news, but Théoden King was killed during the War this past spring. I am his nephew and heir, Éomer.” He came down from the platform, still dwarfing the pompous arse before him. “’Tis unusual for a Rider to be out in this weather.”

“I have a servant who has been with the family for some years,” the lie slid smoothly from his mouth and he didn’t see Éomer tighten his hand in a white-knuckled fist. “He is a simpleton and he appears to have wandered off. He does this on occasion and I’ve tracked him here. In fact, I saw the draft horse he likes to ride in your stable when I stabled my gelding, so I know he is here. I simply wish to find him and take him home where he will be safe and well-tended.” Gifre’s smile was as oily as a snake.

“A long way to wander from home at this time.”

“As I said,” Gifre spoke as if speaking to a child, “he is a simpleton. One cannot miss him. He is very tall, a hulk of a man. He does not speak.” He shrugged. “He is like an infant.”

“An infant who rides. Interesting. Does your simpleton have a name?” 

“Yes. Dwáslíht.”

The moment he said it, it was if the very air was sucked from the room. “I would run too, if my mother had named me ‘dullard.’” 

Gifre shrugged, unapologetic. “’Tis his name. I didn’t give it to him.”

Éomer’s sudden smile was a fake as Gifre’s. “It is snowing and I’ll send word to the stables that the draft horse is not to be taken out. If it is as you say, we’ll find your… servant soon enough.” He clapped the man on the shoulder, as if they were suddenly good friends. “It is time for the afternoon meal. Join us. You’ve been out the cold for too long, so please warm yourself by the fire. ”

Lulled into a sense of false security, the wind-reddened rider agreed and took a place close to the nearest fireplace. Éomer turned to the young serving girl hovering close by. “Wudurosan, get our guest some mead. If you will excuse me, Gifre,” the man bristled at the lack of his title, “I will go find Gamling.” Gifre turned and looked at Éomer curiously. “If your servant is here, Gamling will know.” 

Éomer first went to Eadignes’s chambers, to discover an irate healer alone in her room, cleaning and sorting bandages and herbs. “Where is Willan?”

“He is with Gamling and Aefre in their chambers. Mine aren’t big enough!” she replied hotly. “No one will tell me anything!”

“You’ll find out soon enough, Eadignes.”

She stopped what she was doing and pointed at him angrily. “You will not do that to him again!”

On some strange level, Éomer realized he should be angry that his subordinate was speaking to him in a disrespectful manner, however he understood the basis of her anger and didn’t blame her. “I had no idea this would happen in the first place, Eadignes. I am truly sorry.” With that, he fled to Gamling’s rooms.

True to Eadignes’ claim, Willan sat in Gamling’s chambers, at the small table across from Aefre, who looked pained and uncomfortable, Gamling behind her. Willan’s face looked better, the filth and blood removed. The swelling was down, but his eye was still shut and bruised. He had stitches not only in his forehead, but his lip as well. There were scratches that had been hiding under the filth of the previous night, but healing had truly begun. 

“How do you fare, Willan?” The man smiled as best he could and waved. He patted Aefre’s hand. Éomer reached over and took the man’s hand, inspecting the back. “Not a scratch. Did you not even try to defend yourself?”

“He was afraid they would kill him, sire.” Gamling was restrained fury, every muscle tight.

“How is questioning going?”

“I am still trying to get several things from him.” It was obvious Aefre hadn’t slept since Willan’s arrival. There were dark circles under her eyes. “I was much better at 20 Questions when I was younger and more alert,” she smiled wanly.

“I hate to ask,” Éomer started, “but can you continue this on your own? Gifre has arrived,” Willan started up, but Éomer pressed him back down. “You stay here. I’m disgusted at the story he’s concocted, but if he lies this early, it will be easier to trap him in his lies later. Either way, I need Gamling to help me pin him down.”

“I can finish, sire. That is not a problem.”

Éomer turned to Gamling. “I realize that you have been in Edoras since you were raised Captain and you were my uncle’s advisor and you have advised me well. But there is a large garrison in the Wold that will need an able commander when this is over and I intend to send you to oversee what needs to be done to rebuild it.”

“Sire, you are my king, my liege. I will go where you send me.” Gamling responded. “You know that.”

“That man has proclaimed himself ‘Lord’ of Wolden-”

“LORD?” Aefre shot up, making herself dizzy in the process. “Even Lufian never claimed to be Lord… simply the captain of the garrison!”

Éomer turned to Gamling. “Do you recall there ever being a Lord in the Wold?” 

“Never, sire.” 

“What else is he claiming?”

Éomer rocked up on his toes, hands behind his back. “Other than he’s a ‘Lord’, thought I was Théoden, and that he has a simple, idiot servant who has been in the family’s employ since birth who has wandered off so he’s worried about him – by the way Willan, he knows you’re here. He saw your horse in the stables and according to the word that has come up from there, he’s infuriated Cynn to the point the blacksmith is probably loosening the shoes of his horse this moment.” With this, he inspected his fingernails. “At least, I would be.” With a rounded fist, he popped Gamling on the arm with the side. “Come on, old man, I don’t want to leave him down there by himself long. I don’t know what he’ll do. For all we know, he’s perusing the family goblets he’ll want to pilfer when he leaves.” He winked at Willan. “Aefre, don’t come down. When you’re finished with Willan, let him go back to Eadignes to sweeten her up and I think Gamling would feel better if you tried to rest.”

She bowed her head. “You are most kind, sire.”

Éomer snorted. “Kind? Bull-shite. I can’t pester Gamling because he’s worried about you and Éowyn stays away because she’s planning a wedding. I’m bored. Have this baby already!” 

The two men left, closing the door behind them. Aefre inhaled and looked back at Willan. “Where were we?”

*** 

Éomer strode through the hall purposely, Gamling at his side. “I despise him,” he hissed. “Before he approached me, I could tell he was nastiness personified.” They went around the corridor together, servants moving out of their way. “I do not know the entire story of why Aefre left-”

“She ran, Sire. According to her, she packed what she could get on her horse within an hour and left with all of her retainers. None stayed.”

“And she came here?”

“No. She went to her father’s home, where her sister-in-law resided. I forget her name. Eden, Eadlayn or somesuch. The woman kept her retainers but put her out. She ‘advised’ her to return to Lufian’s garrison and submit herself to him.”

“Bicce!”

“Aye and as I recall, you said she should remarry.”

Éomer stopped and put his hand on Gamling’s shoulder. “I was young and stupid. I did not understand the heart. I am sorry for that.”

Gamling placed his hand over Éomer’s. “It is forgotten and you are forgiven. After her sister-in-law threw her out, she went to her grandmother’s small holdings, hoping to live there, but the place was uninhabitable and there was no money or supplies to fix what needed to be repaired. She was afraid if she stayed and did even the most necessary maintenance, her sister-in-law would find out and attempt to claim the estate for her son. At that point, Cenedan suggested she write Théoden and Théoden brought her here.”

“To you.”

Gamling smiled. “I’m glad he invited her and I’m glad she came.” The two entered the Great Hall. “How quickly are we going to do this?”

“Fast as we can. I have no intention of putting him up in style for the night. Gifre!” Éomer’s smile was back in full force. The man was sitting at the table, mug and trencher in front of him. “This is one of my Marshals, Gamling.” 

Gifre didn’t rise, simply nodded and continued eating. They watched him chew several times before swallowing. “Marshal? Where?”

“I am being sent to the Wold.”

“Oh.” He shoveled another fork full in his mouth. “You are building a new garrison?”

Gamling and Éomer looked at each other. The normal din in the hall was muted, silent actually. “I understand you command the garrison formerly commanded by Lufian.” 

Gifre was paying more attention to his food, rather than the questioning. “He is dead and I am his kinsman. I am now Lord of Woldenfeld.”

“Who commands the garrison?”

He put his eating utensil down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Well, if you are the Marshal, I suppose you will be.”

Gamling leaned over, resting on his fists, his face mere inches from Gifre. “Who commands the garrison NOW?”

Gifre blinked. “I do.”

“Last spring, Théoden King called up the full muster of Rohan-”

Gifre picked up his goblet and took a drink. “You mentioned a skirmish that the former king was killed in.”

“It was no skirmish.” Éomer now joined Gamling, fists on the table. “It was a war! A war against Mordor.”

Gifre’s knuckles were now white, tightening around the stem of the earthenware goblet. Otherwise, he had nerves of calm steel. “Sounds bad. Sorry we didn’t know about it or I would have sent a contingent.”

“You knew.”

Gifre looked up slowly, his visage cruel. “Prove it.”

“Cenedan.”

He paled at that. “He is here?” His eyes flicked back and forth, seeing the looks pass between Éomer King and his Marshal. “I thought not. You have nothing but the word of a coward who ran off with Lufian’s whore of a widow.” If he saw Gamling’s enraged visage, he paid no heed. He put down his mug and stood up, wiping his hands. “I am looking for my runaway servant. He’s very large, too stupid to speak and I know he is here. If you would help me locate him, I would like to return to my holdings as soon as possible. If you,” he addressed Gamling with a sneer, “will let me know when you plan to take over the garrison, I can attempt to prepare a place for you. I have not much room.”

A heavy hand placed itself on his shoulder, pushing him back down into his seat. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Gifre looked up and into the only open livid grey eye of Willan. “Ah! Dwáslíht. Who did this to you? No matter. Come along now and we will return-”

“Perhaps, you did not hear the Marshal.” Éomer was now standing up. “You are not going anywhere.”

Gifre turned back to the king. “You have no reason to detain me.”

“YES, HE DOES!” Despite her king’s request, Aefre stormed into the hall. “I name you THIEF!”

Gifre looked her up and down, lingering on her obvious late-term pregnancy. “I see you wasted little time spreading yourself for someone else.” 

In a blink, Willan had him yanked from the bench and pressed eye level against a support beam. He had his hand about his throat and was pulling his fist back. “Dwáslíht!” Gifre was squirming, kicking the post feebly. “Watch yourself-”

Gamling tapped him on the shoulder, the scene eerily reminiscent of a similar panorama that took place in the garden, earlier in the spring. “Put him down. I cannot speak to him if you strangle him.” Willan slowly lowered him to where he stood on his tiptoes. “This is your servant that you have searched for?”

“Aye.”

“That has been in the household for many years.”

“Aye. He… he would be safer back in his home.”

Gamling nodded and signaled for Willan to release him. “Which is why he came home.” Gifre’s eyes widened in wretched dawning. “Willan has been a beloved and faithful servant to the Kings of Rohan for many years. You have much to answer for.” He turned to walk away, but as Gifre breathed in a sigh, Gamling turned, slamming a fist into his jaw. “That,” he said, shaking his hand and inspecting his knuckles, while Gifre slid stunned to the floor, “was for insulting my wife.” He walked around the table and took Aefre in his arms. “Are you all right?”

She was panting heavily, angered to a degree Gamling had never witnessed. “No. Bastard! _Bastard!_ He’s a thief.” She noticed Éomer and the hall watching her with keen intent. “He is no relation to Lufian. He lied; he’s a liar!” She watched as Gifre stood slowly up, working his jaw. He was eyeing her with disgust and pure hatred.

“Who is he, Aefre?”

“He is Eadlyn’s brother. He is my sister-in-law’s brother.”

 

_***_

_TBC  
Dwáslíht – Dull, as in a dull light_

_Wudurosan – wild rose_

_Bicce – bitch_


	46. 45 - The Horror of the Wold

****

Rider of the Mark 45 

****

The Horror of the Wold 

Yule was upon Middle Earth. The weather turned crisper; there was more snow, much to the children of Edoras’s delight. Snowmen were built, snow battles were fought; so much more joy than the previous Yule’s. Even the adults joined in the fun. It was whispered Éomer was like a small child himself, enjoying the snow and laughter that hadn’t rung through the town in some years. The ovens in Meduseld were baking around the clock, all day and deep into the night. There would be feasting and joy and almost all looked forward to it. 

The Yule log was dragged into Meduseld, one from a fallen tree from the east. No Winter’s Night tree was raised – there were simply no trees, which in the back of Éomer and Gamling’s mind was cause for concern. Lumber was being donated from several forests, seedlings due in the spring for the future, but there would be no Winternight trees for some years.

Or hanging trees. No gallows.

No one paid attention to the prisoner who was imprisoned in the stockade beneath the barn. He was fed three times a day, his chamber pot exchanged daily. No one spoke to him and he spoke to no one. If he planned, he kept it to himself. But it was if the entire town knew his life was forfeit. The king was simply waiting.

Waiting for his Riders to return with Aefre’s sister-in-law.

*** 

“Make her sit down!” Aelwydd had her hands on her hips. “Better yet, put her to bed with her feet up! She has no ankles!” 

“Mother,” Aefre was scurrying about with unusual energy, her arms loaded with folded linens, “I am fine.”

Gamling leaned against the wall in their chambers, watching his wife move about. Granted, it wasn’t with her normal, usual efficiency, but still, considering how limp she’d been recently…

“Aefre, lift your skirts.”

Aefre looked at her husband with a side-glance. “Really, all I’m doing is putting things away.”

“Aefre-”

She lifted her skirts quickly before dropping them. “There. I have feet.”

“You’re wearing my woolens and no shoes!”

“Mine don’t fit!”

Aelwydd shrugged. “I told you.”

Gamling sighed and pushed himself off the wall. “That’s it. You are done for the day.”

“It’s not even noon!”

“Tell you what,” Gamling took the linens from her and set them on the table, “I’ll send for Beornia and tell her to bring Fyren’s little ones. They are making ornaments and decorations for Yule. They can sit on the bed with you and you can help.” Aefre rolled her eyes. “Come on, up with you!” He maneuvered Aefre backwards into the bed.

“I can’t just lay around-”

“Yes, you can.” Aefre found herself up and scooting back on the bed. Gamling pulled the pillows in a wad behind her save two and those he put under her feet. “Now stay put! I’m getting lunch and bringing… distractions.” He left. Aelwydd left. No one was left in the room, but her.

Aefre screamed in frustration at the top of her lungs.

*** 

Gamling heard her venting as he went down the hall. “This babe is late!” he growled at his mother. “I would take her horseback riding if I could get her up on the horse!”

“I would help if I could.” Aelwydd scurried to keep up. “Eadignes and Hildegard say she is close, everything is progressing. I would suspect this show of energy is her last burst before labor. Come to think of it, I believe she is in the stages of early labor.” 

Gamling stopped in mid-stride and grabbed his mother by the forearm. “I am worried. The babe has been rock hard for a day and this morning, Aefre complained of a stringy discharge this morning.”

Aelwydd hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she tapped her lip in thought. “I need to tell Eadignes and Hildegard and make sure we have plenty of birthing linens ready. You should stockpile wood for your fireplace and oil for the lamps in your rooms. The birthing stool has already been brought up to Eadignes’s room…” Aelwydd’s voice trailed off in thought. “Why are you doing standing there?” she finally snapped. “Go get Beornia! Aefre needs distraction!” She watched as her son darted down the hallway before whispering, “I hope you are ready to become a father.”

*** 

Eadlyn of the Wold was a beautiful woman.

Éomer made note of that immediately. She was tall, lithe, finely made, with the long, golden hair of the Rohirrim people and hazel eyes. However, despite the ride in the brisk weather, she was pale, wan beneath wind-reddened cheeks and she fidgeted nervously. She held a young boy by the hand, a lad of about five summers. He too looked as if he never saw the sunshine and he looked about nervously. 

“Do you know why you are here?”

Eadlyn stood proudly. “No sir. I simply know a group of Riders carrying what the captain of my garrison claimed was the King’s Mark with orders to present myself in Edoras immediately to discuss an important matter.” She swallowed self-consciously. “I am but a widow. I have no idea what the King of Rohan would want with me.”

Éomer looked at her son. “What is your name?”

The little boy looked at his mother, who motioned him to answer. “Glædscipe.” He clutched a small wooden horse to his chest. “Do you have horses here-”

Eadlyn shushed him, but Éomer ignored her. “Have you eaten?”

Great brown eyes that Gamling would have recognized stared at the king. “No.”

Éomer smiled and motioned for a servant girl. “Feed young Glædscipe here and when he is full, find Beornia’s sons to take him to the barn. Tell them to make sure he stays out of the riders and Cynn’s way.” He looked pointedly at the boy. “If you wrap up warmly, I am sure there is enough snow down the hill to build a snow-orc.” Glædscipe grinned broadly and happily followed the buxom serving girl.

Eadlyn look was of pure terror. “Sir, my son-”

“I am Éomer, King of Rohan.” That stopped her and she snapped her mouth shut. “What we need to discuss is not for the ears of small children. Besides, he looks as if he could stand some friendship and dirt.” He inclined his head slightly. “As well as outdoor air. He will be safe.” He nodded to the rider who brought the woman and her child in. “Éothain, we are going to the King’s council chambers. Please find and send Willan, as well as Marshal Gamling, his lady, and my sister, Lady Éowyn.” He purposely didn’t mention Aefre’s name; he wanted to see Eadlyn’s reaction when she realized who the Marshal’s lady was.

She followed him meekly down the halls of Meduseld, before he opened the door to the king’s council chambers – part of the rooms that had been King Théoden’s apartments. Éomer refused to move into them, staying in his own room in Meduseld for reasons only known to him. He instructed her to make herself comfortable, while he waited in the open doorway.

Éowyn arrived first, introducing herself and attempted to make the woman at ease. Gamling arrived soon after.

“Your wife is coming?” Éomer entered the room and brought the door to a close. 

“She moves slowly these days.” He leaned inwards, so Eadlyn could not hear. “My mother and Eadignes say I should be a father in the next day or two. She is showing signs.” He grabbed the king by the arm. “She needs not to be upset or angered unduly.”

“I suspect your wife will get more out of her than we will. Look at her. She looks hunted. Her son looks as if he never sees the daylight. She was terrified to allow him out of her sight.”

“Where is he?”

With this, Éomer smiled. “Hopefully, in the down fields, making snow orcs and getting dirty!” He moved into the room. “Eadlyn. You have met my sister Éowyn, and this is one of my Marshal’s; Gamling.” They nodded. “I am redoing some of the ways of our Riders and Gamling will be overseeing the Wold.” With this, she paled. “That is part of the reason why we called you here.”

“You have questions.” Her voice was breathy. “You should have sent for my captain. I do not oversee our garrison, which is quite small.”

Gamling did not sit down. Instead he leaned, bracing his hands on the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her with his gaze. “I am more interested in the garrison at Woldenfeld.”

Her breath caught before she stiffened up. “The garrison at Woldenfeld is overseen by Gifre. You should ask him-”

“But I am asking you.”

“I know nothing of the garrison in the Woldenfeld.”

Gamling pushed off the chair and moved closer to the hearth. The fire was high and it glowed, throwing his shadow grotesquely on the wall. “I find that hard to believe. Your sister-in-law was married to the previous captain and came to your home when Gifre lied of being related to her husband.”

Eadlyn lifted her nose, brashly. “Gifre was Lufian’s cousin; therefore it was his right to claim the garrison and home. Aefre had no business trying to take over my home.” She did not hear the door open.

“Do you know where Aefre is now?”

“No!” she jeered irritably. “Knowing her, she landed on her feet somewhere, ingratiating herself and taking over someone’s household.” Eadlyn relaxed slightly in the chair. “She is more than a capable chatelaine.”

“Yes.” Éomer agreed. “She is.” Eadlyn jerked upright. “Éowyn? Would you say Aefre ingratiated herself when she arrived?”

“No.” Éowyn shook her head. “If anything, she was humble.” Gamling snorted at that. “But you are right, Eadlyn. She is more than a capable chatelaine.”

Éomer situated himself in front of Eadlyn, blocking the light from the fire. “Shall we go back to Gifre-”

“I don’t know anything about Gifre! I don’t like him, truth be told! He’s a perverted bastard! The last dealings I had with him were in the spring when the muster was called!”

Gamling and Éomer looked at each other.

_*Now, we’re getting somewhere-*_

“You saw him?” Éomer was cautious.

“So, he knew the muster was called?” Gamling was not so cautious.

“Yes, he knew! My captain at the time went to Gifre’s garrison and told him before the men of our garrison left!” Eadlyn was becoming quite agitated.

“Your captain would be able to testify to this?”

“Yes!” She spat. “Cræft was one of the few who returned!” Her anxiety was escalating. “You should have called him down for questioning, rather than me!”

Éomer was not the bit relenting. He took in her body language, her white knuckles. “But I wanted to talk to you.”

She shot up from the chair. “I said all I know. He knew the muster was called!” A heavy hand pressed her back down in the chair. She turned to see Willan, very stern, forcing her down in the seat. 

“Shall we try again, Eadlyn?”

“What is Dwáslíht doing here?”

Éomer’s smile did not reach his eye. “His name is Willan and he has been a faithful retainer to my uncle’s and my house for many, many years. He was sent to the Wold for a purpose and I suggest you speak up-”

Eadlyn sneered. “Who would believe a dumb mute?”

“Anyone in Edoras.”

Eadlyn shot up again, staring at the woman in the shadows. “Aefre!”

Aefre’s eyes closed, willing herself to ignore the pain shooting through her back. So far in the shadows, no one noticed her knuckles or lip that was turning white. “Gifre is your brother. We know that.”

Eadlyn sank in the chair, dawning on her features. “You wouldn’t understand-”

“No I don’t and I don’t know if I really want to understand, as much as I would prefer to slap the piss-fire out of you.” Aefre stepped into the light. “I do know this looks very bad for you.”

Immediately, Eadlyn was cajoling. “Aefre, please, surely, as family… a woman-”

“As a woman?” Her voice was a hiss. “Do not tell me how to be a woman!” As she came around the chair, her advanced pregnancy was very evident. Her lips were white, as were her knuckles. 

Eadlyn’s eyes narrowed. “I see you have done very well for yourself. Who is the father?”

Aefre’s hand shot out, slapping the woman hard and knocking her back into the chair. “BICCE! You bitch!” She took a deep breath; her nostrils pinched and held it for several seconds before continuing. “You knew! You sent him! Was my father’s holdings not enough, you had to have mine as well?”

Eadlyn bolted from the chair, scrambling before Willan could catch her. Aefre backed up, Gamling and Éowyn moving between the two battling women. “You would think that! How dare you!”

“It is pretty obvious to me,” Éomer spoke quietly, inspecting his fingernails. “Gifre is your brother, you perpetrated a lie for him to take control of large garrison that did not belong to him. You have your holdings through death.”

“IT WAS HIS IDEA!!!” she screamed. “I DIDN’T KNOW! HE JUST SHOWED UP! IT WAS HIS IDEA TO KILL THEM!!!”

The air rushed from Aefre’s lungs and she bent over. Her water broke at that instant, flooding the floor and Gamling’s boots and her contraction took her breath. There was noise, rushing wind surrounding her; Aefre could see Gamling’s mouth moving, Éomer’s mouth, silently shouting orders, Eadlyn’s fists pumping up and down in anger in slow motion. Éowyn was pointing…

There was no sound. None.

_*the pain…*_

Willan scooped her up, Gamling grabbing the door. Once they entered the hallway, it was if they were in a long tunnel, voices echoing…

_*Get Eadignes, Hildegard, get my mother, Beornia. Send them to our rooms…*_

They reached Gamling and Aefre’s chambers, Willan kicking the door open before Gamling could get to it. As he set her down, the contraction began to ease, but the next was already building. 

“Aefre-”

“Don’t leave me.” The next contraction started and she grabbed Gamling’s hands, squeezing as it built. “Please don’t leave me. I think I’m going to have a baby.”

***  
tbc  
***


	47. 46 - There is a light

****

# Rider of the Mark 

****

## Chapter 46 

****

### There is a light 

The scene in the King’s Council Chambers was one of chaos; a minor noblewoman screaming hysterically, a high ranking noblewoman bent double, standing in a puddle of water and drenched clothing, Gamling shouting orders, Willan following them…

Éomer watched the scene with apparent cool detachment, watching his sister attempt to calm Eadlyn and the others goings on. It seemed forever before Aefre was removed and taken to hers and Gamling’s chambers. He shook his head before touching Éowyn on the shoulder. “Get us some wine,” he spoke softly. “All of us.”

“It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.” Eadlyn was rocking back and forth. “I didn’t know. He would have killed me, threatened to, you don’t know you don’t know what he’s like…” She continued to rock, rambling on and on.

Éomer asked no questions; simply listened.

*** 

“Willan! Stoke the fire in the fireplace and heat water for a bath.” Gamling’s father might have been a high standing captain in his own right, but his mother was equally up to the task of commanding an army, even if it were an army of women and servants. There were times past, Gamling thought soldiers would jump to when his mother snapped her fingers. 

There was scurrying, constant movement for the next several minutes, everyone had a job to do; Willan at the fireplace, coaxing a roaring fire from the coals and embers, Helgarda arrived, a basket of herbs that Eadignes immediately nosed through before heading to her rooms and returning with a strangely seated stool. Gamling’s job appeared to be to simply console and soothe his wife.

Once Willan stoked the fire and had the tub filled, his mother instructed Gamling to remove Aefre’s sodden clothes from her. With her contractions coming at regular intervals, it took a minute or two to peel the clothing from her body, Gamling’s woolen stockings she had taken to wearing, being the most difficult. They got her in the tub, the warm water soothing a bit of the labor, Gamling massaging what he could reach. She was given herbal tea, to calm, to relieve, to ease…

Beornia arrived sometime after dinner. The minute she saw Gamling sitting behind Aefre, kneading, whispering in her ear.

“What is he doing here?” she growled.

“She wants him here, he wants to be here but…”

“It isn’t done!” She inhaled so harshly, her nostrils pinched. “I understand how he feels, but my husband insisted on staying when Aglaeca was born and he refused to touch me for seven months afterwards!” She shook with the memory. “I had to get the idiot drunk and seduce him!” 

The women shook their heads, all watching the tender reaction between the two. 

*** 

Éomer’s day fared no easier. Aefre’s sister-in-law was a haunted, haunted woman and she spilled her guts and things Éomer didn’t wish to hear; demons and ghosts no human being should endure. He was prepared to hate her, but in the end, only held intense pity for the woman and her son. That such things would happen in the Riddermark unheralded was galling. Eventually, Éowyn took her to a guest room and plied her with so much wine, she fell into a drunken sleep, asking about her son as she fell.

When Éowyn returned, he stood in front of the fire, staring into the crackling depths, as if contemplating the various hues writhing within. 

“Éomer-”

“Did you hear? Did you hear all of it?”

“Aye.”

_*I hate him. I hate him. He did things to me, growing up. Hurtful, cruel, inhuman, hateful things...*_

“Do you believe her?”

_*Scared, so scared. I hid my son from him, he never goes out, Gifre doesn’t know I have him, he’d do those things to him, I won’t let him, I’d kill him, kill us first…*_

Éowyn thought for a moment. “Aye, but Willan would know. If Willan heard about it, he’d know.”

Éomer continued to gaze into the fathomless deep. “Where is the boy?”

“Playing in the barns with Beornia’s sons and fosterlings. Cynn is watching. He says it’s as if the child is starving. Starving for friends and playmates.”

“If she is not lying, he is starving. Can you imagine? Never going out? Never seeing others? Never having playmates or friends?”

“Or getting dirty?” Éomer shook his head at her words. “I don’t know a boy that doesn’t love to get vile, filthy dirty.” He felt Éowyn pat him on the arm. “I’ll go get Willan, as well as what council members I can roust up. I know you would like to brood and stay up all night, questioning him and your assemblymen, but Gamling is in for a rough night. I suspect the women will eject him from his chambers before too much longer and he will be in dire need of company.”

“He’s still with Aefre?”

“Yes, he is, however, birth is the providence of women. ‘Tis a harsh thing. I’ll send Willan.” He heard her leave.

Éomer snorted. “Nothing is the providence of anyone.” His eyes wandered upwards, to the King’s Standard hanging over the fireplace. “It belongs to all.”

*** 

“Ah.” Eadignes smiled up from between Aefre’s legs. “You are progressing nicely.”

“If she is progressing so nicely, why is our babe not here?” Gamling sat on in the middle of the bed, Aefre propped up in his lap. Another labor pain hit her, causing her to tense up. His arms held her close. “Relax.”

“I… can’t…”

Helgarda and Aelwydd stole a glance at each other, Gamling, to focused on his wife to pay attention. Beornia reached her hand to her sister-in-law. “Come Aefre. Let’s get you walking again.”

“Tired of walking.”

“I know. It’s called ‘labor’ for a reason.” Aefre’s contractions were now literally on top of each other. Although it was now long past midnight and most of Edoras was fast asleep, the bustle in the Marshal’s chambers was much like midday. 

As Aefre came off the bed, Gamling followed her. His mother caught his arm as he slid from the bed. “She will be crowning soon, Eadignes felt the head. As your child will present his or herself before sunrise, would you go and rouse several servant girls to start heating water for another bath? The baby will need one, as will Aefre when everything is finished.”

Gamling nodded and kissed his wife. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get Willan and a few others to prepare the bath.” Aefre was in the middle of yet another contraction and nodded she heard.

Gamling made fast work of rousing two of the serving women. As the Marshal’s wife was in labor, both had camped in the kitchens for the night, keeping the hearth lit and stoked, water already drawn from the well. Willan was in his rooms and came up easily. Gamling headed back to his rooms.

To find the door barred to him.

*** 

Thirty minutes later, Éomer gingerly stepped into the barn, not knowing what to expect to hear or see. Willan seemed almost frantic when he roused him, gesturing towards the Royal Stables. Every lamp was lit, so it was like daylight inside, rather than late in the night. The braziers on both ends were stoked and burning merrily, giving the barn a cozy feeling. He heard a disturbance in the back and he looked to see Gamling moving Dréogan to a different stall. “Gamling?”

“Back here.” He didn’t look up; didn’t recognize Éomer as sire. 

Éomer moved to the back, horses glaring at him, irritated that their peaceful slumber had been disturbed. As Éomer walked towards the back of the barn, he saw the Marshal had stripped his tunic and laid it over a stall. There was a muck bucket, picks and shovels leaning against the slats, a small barrel of lime. “What are you doing?”

Gamling grabbed a shovel and began to scrape the shavings in the floor towards the middle of the stall. “Has it been so long since you cleaned a stall, that you’ve forgotten, youngling?” With his back to his king, he began to scoop, throwing droppings and hay in the muck bucket, corded muscles across his back standing out.

“Why?” Éomer grimaced when he saw the raised sewn flesh on the Horselord’s side. 

“Why what?” Gamling continued digging into the corners that most young stable boys missed.

“Why are you cleaning the stall?” 

By the set of his shoulders and back, Éomer realized he had suddenly breached a tender and serious subject, one that had the older Rider in a barely self-contained fury. “Because,” Gamling gritted between his teeth, “my wife is working hard, laboring to bring our child into this world and my mother and sister feel it is too difficult and heart-breaking a process for me to bear.” He returned to digging out the stall. “I have aided in the birth of countless colts and fillies. Messy business and yet the very act of watching my wife push our babe from her body is supposedly too traumatizing for me to watch!” He stabbed the shovel into the pile he’d made and slung it into the muck bucket.

Éomer watched him for a few moments. “Can I help?”

“No!”

*** 

“Hold my hands, Aefre. Squeeze them and push.”

“I’m pushing already! I want Gamling!”

“Push again. Keeping pushing.”

“I’m pushing already! Please, I want-”

“Count to ten with me. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten. Breathe. Inhale. Do it again. One… Two… Three… Four…”

*** 

In time, Éomer went to the kitchens and brought back mugs of cold ale, cheese, and fruit. Gamling dug down in the dirt, limed them before replacing the flooring with fresh hay and chips. He brought his stallion back to his stall and retrieved Adenydd. The mare was large as well, heavy with her own colt. She nosed Gamling joyfully before nuzzling and nickering to Dréogan. Gamling grabbed a mug, mindless as to whose it was and drank the ale in several swallows, sweat dripping from his brow, as well as drizzling down between his shoulder blades. He rolled his head, popping his neck, before beginning again.

“How many stalls are you going to do, old man?”

“As many as I need to.” Again, he began in the corners, the muscles in his back popping out. “What are you going to do about Aefre’s sister-in-law?”

Éomer sighed. “I don’t know. You didn’t hear all of that.”

Again, Gamling’s back was to his sovereign. “She was an accomplice to murder.”

“No. Not really.” Éomer made himself as comfortable as he could be, perched on the wall of the stall, munching the core of his apple. “If anything she is a victim to her brother’s insanity.” 

“You are sure he’s insane?”

“Oh, quite.”

Gamling looked at him over his shoulder. “Has Willan confirmed her story?”

“Aye. He has. Gifre was… abusive…” there was a meaningful pause and stress on the word, telling Gamling the abuse was of the most heinous type, “…growing up. He enjoyed maiming and killing helpless animals and such. According to her, the family breathed a sigh of relief when he left home. She suspects he had a hand in her parents’ death some years later and to protect herself, she coerced Aefre’s brother into marriage. She had no idea he was behind her husband’s death until he returned later.” He threw the core into the muck bucket. “She hid her son, so he would not abuse him as he abused her. She never let him out; the servants were loyal to the family.”

Gamling wiped his brow with a sweaty wrist. “Why did he wait so long to return?”

Éomer shrugged. “I don’t know. I went down to talk to him, to see if he would shed some light, deny it, implicate her. I have never someone with no conscience.” He shuddered from the remembered interview. “None whatsoever. Not until this evening.”

*** 

“Aefre, slide here to the chair.”

“I can’t. I’m so tired.”

“I know you are. Slide here on the birthing stool… there you go, Aefre. You’re so close.”

“I’m so tired. I can’t push anymore. Please let me rest, please, I want-…”

Strong hands took hers. “Yes, you can.” They guided her hands between her legs. “Touch. Feel that? That’s your baby’s head. Come one. Just a few more pushes…”

*** 

“She thought Aefre’s garrison would be able to repel him… she even prayed he’d be killed in the skirmish. She was shocked when Aefre showed up, beaten and defeated. Many in the garrison were away planting their own fields. There were so few there. That bastard timed his attack well.” 

Gamling finished Adenydd’s stall and was now beginning on Firefoot’s. For not the first time, he stopped for a moment, looking up towards Meduseld, his head cocked, as if listening. He shook his leonine head after a moment and went to the corner, shovel clutched in a white-knuckled fist.

“You’re a methodical bastard, you know that?”

“Aye.” Gamling pulled the shavings and cobwebs from the corner, disturbing a nest of mice. His heart clenched, watching three little babies chase after their mother. “What are you going to do with Eadlyn and her brother?”

“Eadlyn? Nothing. After what she’s been through… I’m sending you up as Marshal to the Wold in the spring if Aefre can travel. You can oversee her garrison; assign a strong captain, if you feel the need. Perhaps allocate some married Riders with young children, so her son will have someone to play with. I’ll order that he be fostered with you, in your garrison.”

“And Gifre?”

*** 

“Pushpushpushpushpushpushpush… the head is out… now pantpantpantpantpantpantpantpantpant…”

Sweat dripped between her breasts, her hair hanging in wet lanks…

“Give me your hands. Put them here… now pull. Pull your baby… yesyesyes… oh look… look…oh Aefre, look at your baby…”

*** 

As the sun broke over the mountain, a baby’s cry rent the air, carrying through the cracked window of the room and down to the stables. Éomer had opened several earlier and when the howl was heard faintly on the wind, Gamling stopped. He started to throw down the shovel, but Éomer’s hand stayed him. “They will come to get you. I promised to keep you occupied.” He continued apologetically. “Sorry, old man. You can do the same to me when it’s my turn.”

With renewed fury, he attacked the floor of the stable, taking out every evil that had been done to him in his life on the dirt. “And Gifre?” he repeated.

“Oh, Gifre is going to die. Murder, treason, theft…” Éomer returned to the dividing fence. “… according to the laws of the Riddermark, men guilty of those crimes shall not live.”

“How?”

Éomer sighed. “A battle éored will be chosen, all well-seasoned veterans. No young riders or those only possessing first cloaks. He is to be taken to the Wold and dragged, his body burned. Woldenfeld is to be cleared out, his men shot or chased into Fangorn, if they make it that far. Willan will go, to point out his men and those loyal to the garrison. Gifre only told his chosen few that there was a war. The garrison as a whole did not know.”

Gamling was digging ferociously. “You have discussed this with your council?”

“Aye. They agree. Gamling, I’m sorry, but as Marshal-” The doors to the barn opened and Beornia stepped in, carrying clothing. 

“I was told you were down here, Gamling.” She held out the tunic. “Your child has arrived, so you will want to wash up-”

“Healthy?” He handed the shovel to Éomer and the king entered the stall, picking up where the Horse Lord left off.

She smiled. “Very healthy, healthy lungs, has your temper already. Ten fingers and ten toes.”

“Aefre is well?”

Beornia sighed. “Would you just go wash up and go to them?”

Gamling snatched the tunic. “You will not put me out next time.”

“Gamling, I-”

He thrust a finger in her face. “I know the problems you and your husband had after Aglaeca’s birth! They were not my problems.” He started to turn back, but thought better. “I do not wish to hear a ‘man’s place’ or a ‘woman’s place!’ My place was with my wife!”

“Ah!” Éomer’s voice rose cheerily over the stall slats, “but look at the cleanliness of these stalls! Your wife should have children more often!” The king’s head and arms thrust over the stall door. “In fact,” he slung a finger in Gamling’s direction, “I order you to go make another one, right now! You didn’t get the other side done at all!” Gamling scowled and headed towards the door to the rain barrel. “SLACKER!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gamling draped his tunic over the barn latch and thrust his elbow through the frozen top of the rain barrel. He rinsed the sweat from his chest and arms off in the frigid water, before splashing his face and throwing on the clean tunic. He then raced through the kitchen, heading towards his rooms.

“Congratulations, Marshal!” Voices followed him, Gamling acknowledging them with a nod and a grunt. He reached his rooms and raised his hand to knock before smacking himself for his stupidity. With a cursory, warning rap, he eased the door open.

The room smelled of fresh herbs and flowers. The fire roared in the fireplace, his mother leaning over the bed, tucking the linens around Aefre. She was fresh from the bath, her hair braided with a few damp tendrils lying loose around her face. She was holding a very small bundle in the cradle of her arms. She saw him standing uncertainly just beyond the door, taking her in, looking… and she smiled.

“My lord husband. Come and see.”

Aelwydd stood up, but not before whispering in her ear. She turned to leave, touching Gamling gently on the shoulder. “She’s had a long, rough night and is very sleepy.” She brushed a moist lock of hair from her son’s face. “Looks as if you are tired as well. Go greet your child, Gamling. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

The door closed behind her.

Gamling couldn’t move forward. He stood in the middle of the floor, staring at Aefre and that little, tiny package of swaddling in her arms.

“Are you going to stand there all day, looking like a wall flower, or are you going to come look at our daughter?”

In a rush, he was at her side, peering at the baby. “A girl? It’s a girl?” He reached across, pulling the blanket from her head. Red – gold curls lay close to a perfect head, a tiny fist shoved in her mouth. 

“She’s not ready to eat, but she’s practicing.” 

“She’s-” 

_*minemineminemineminemineandaefresbeautifulminemineminebabybabyminemine*_

“-beautiful.”

Aefre was tired. Despite the bath, the fresh linens and shift, she was worn out and sore. “You are not disappointed?”

“Disappointed?” He looked at his wife, took in her exhaustion. “No! We can try for a boy later,” he added smugly.

Aefre yawned. “Not any time soon, you wild thing.” There was no malice in her words, only a gentle jesting.

“No,” he agreed quietly. “Not anytime soon, although Éomer has commanded us to do this again as quickly as possible.” He smirked at her expression. “It seems I didn’t finish cleaning Firefoot’s stall and he wants me to come back down.”

“That’s where you went. Gamling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they would do that until-”

For the first time since coming in to the room, Gamling kissed her. “It’s not your fault. Namely Beornia and her personal fears. It won’t happen again.” Aefre’s eyes were growing heavy, her exhaustion over-whelming. “Here. Give me our daughter.” He slid his hands under Aefre’s, mimicking how she cradled the wee one. He shifted his daughter, marveling how she fit so perfectly in the crook of his arm. Aefre slid down into the over-sized bed and he pulled her quilts up. “Get some rest. You’ve worked hard.” When he bent down to kiss her again, she was fast asleep.

Gamling started to take the babe and sit in front of the fireplace. Above the mantle was his house’s standard. He lifted the babe’s head slightly. “Do you see that? That is your house’s banner, the emblem of your family. Your mother has one too.” The baby stretched and opened one blue eye, scrunching up her face before shoving her fist back in her mouth.

He heard Aefre roll over, moaning in pain as she did so. Wishing again, he had been there for her, he walked softly to the door, opening it and stealing outside to the hallway.

He walked down the corridor, stopping on occasion when a passing servant stopped him to coo and congratulate him. He thought he had been proud when he earned his first cloak, when he had been named Captain, when he was recently promoted to Marshal, but nothing was like this. He realized he was in the Great Hall, very few wandering through its walls.

He sank down in the nearest chair, not paying attention what chair or whose chair it was, just simply sank into it. Looking from her to the walls of hanging banners, he pointed to the first one.

“That is the Banner of Rohan. You are Rohirrim, daughter of the Horselords. When you can sit up, I’ll take you riding and teach you to fly.” He looked down to find her staring at him, intently.

_*Guess I should namenamenamewhatname should I give can’t call you Little Thumper for the rest of your life.*_

She continued to stare at him, blinking at the bright sun that was beginning to shine through the upper windows. Gamling shifted her, so as to shade her face. “Light. I shall name you, Léoma.” He leaned down closer, as if to whisper a secret to her. “That is, if your mother likes it.” She squirmed and resettled into her father’s embrace. He pointed to the next banner. “That was Théoden King’s battle standard-” Slowly, he began to sing the account of each banner, singing the history of Rohan, her glories, her heroes, of Helm Hammerhand, Brytta, Fréaláf, the death of Walda, Théoden, of Éowyn, who killed the Witch King, Éomer…

Éomer came in from the back, just in time to stop one of his advisors from removing Gamling from his throne. The old man was insistent – no one was to sit on the throne, but the king. It just wasn’t done.

“Right now, he is fine. Leave him be,” Éomer smiled. “After all, for now, he is king of her world. Who am I to move him?” He quietly stole up the back of the dais, leaning over the top of the high backed chair to look down. Gamling was still crooning, unaware of the proximity of the king, pointing at Éomer’s banner, singing of how he felled the Mûmakil, aiding his friend, the King of Gondor…

“You are bringing a tear to my eye, old man. Making me such a brave man.” Éomer pressed the point, wiping the imagined droplet from his face. Gamling looked up, over his shoulder, smiling. “I understand your wife has presented you with a Shield-toddler.”

“Not a toddler. Not yet.” 

“But will be. Let me see.” 

Gamling pulled the blanket from her face. “Sire, might I present your newest subject. Léoma, daughter of Gamling and Aefre, soon to be of the Wold.” 

“She’s beautiful, old man. You’ve done your king proud.” He came around and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “I’m nasty and sweaty and need a bath.” He stepped down from the dais, heading for his room. “I had to finish cleaning out Firefoot’s stall, because someone didn’t finish it!” He disappeared around the corner, the sound of his off-key whistling the only remnants of his visit.

Gamling shook his head, smiling, and then continued to point out, continued to sing.

“Gamling.” Eadignes tapped him on the arm. “You might wish to head to your rooms. Your babe will be hungry and believe me,” she blushed apologetically, “she has your lungs,” she finished with a whisper.

“This little thing?” Léoma was sleeping peacefully in his arms. “She can scream that loud?” Eadignes nodded. He waved her away, one-handed. “She is resting. Go on with you. We are just fine.” The healer walked off, shaking her head at the stupidity of men. Perhaps the Marshal should have been in the rooms and, well, he’d just hear for himself.

The pair continued to sit in silence for several more minutes, Gamling musing to himself at the outrageousness of some women.

A few minutes later, he was storming quickly through the halls, rushing for his chambers…

…an angry, screaming baby in his arms. 

***   
tbc

***


	48. 48 - The Will To Ride

_For Niamh, who bounced the original bunny oh so long ago. I never thought she’d wouldn’t be here for the end. And thank you Alex, for your all of your patience._

 

__

Rider of the Mark 47 

__

The will to Ride 

_Stare into my eyes, can’t you see the endless sky  
Peaking through the cracks of that abandoned barn  
I got my first kiss there._

 

Two days after the birth of Léoma, Éomer King, flanked by his council, sentenced Gifre to be branded as a thief and then to be taken post-haste to the Wold and executed for murder, treason and other unnamed heinous crimes against men and women, his body to be burned and left for carrion.

An execution éored of veterans was assembled, headed by Gamling, and they took him into the Wold. As tradition called, the night before the execution, each man donned a black mask, covering head and hair and began the long night of swapping tents, beds, so at sunrise, when they withdrew from someone else’s tent and drew straws, no one truly knew who was who. Gifre’s own horse dragged the thief and as ordered, they burned the body and left him.

Taking the hall of Woldenfeld was not easy, but was done rather quickly. With Willan in attendance, it was easy to separate the true soldiers of the garrison from Gifre’s friends. Their sentence read, they were taken to Fangorn and told if they made it to the trees, their lives were their own.

None made it.

Before they returned home, Gamling walked through the home and garrison that had been so efficiently run by Lufian and his wife. It was now run down, damage done to the walls, the furniture. It would take work to repair it to its former splendor, more than what could be done in a season and he took mental note of the materials, the manpower needed to repair and rebuild. The barn was turning into a lean-to, the true soldiers struggling to keep the barracks and barn in working condition. He did not blame them and informed them so. They were horrified to learn there had been a war – an honest – to - Béma WAR and they missed it, thanks to that sniveling lying coward. He informed them he would be returning in the spring as Marshal, with his wife and child; that news was greeted with cheers. When he informed them his wife was the Lady Aefre, that news was greeted with whoops and hollers. One soldier told them where Gifre kept his personal stash of ale and they toasted their new commander and wife in style, to the point most of the soldiers staggered to their beds, happy drunks for the first time in some years.

Six weeks after Aefre gave birth, her mare followed suit and birthed a chestnut filly with a blaze and four socks. She was up on her hooves quickly, and nosing her mother for milk soon after. Dréogan was most interested in the proceedings, his head hanging over the railing, until the front hooves came out and with a look of equine disgust, he went to the other side of his stall, until cheering went up and he too, came to inspect his daughter.

They named her ‘Smeartides’ - for she was a very precocious lady indeed.

Eadlyn’s captain was old, too old and admittedly wishing to retire, so upon his return, Gamling spoke to Éomer, and secured the transfer of Éothain, to take over the garrison there. Several Riders with families were persuaded to move as well, ensuring Eadlyn would finally heal and her son would not only have desperately desired playmates, but that someone would teach him to ride.

By the time he earned his first cloak, it was noted by elderly riders there that he rode as wild as his grandfather.

When the call went out for volunteers to relocate, all were shocked at the numbers willing to go. Abéodan, other young, newly cloaked Riders. But most shockingly of all, Eadignes, hand in hand with Willan.

“Should we watch for the two of you to be wrapped in his cloak?” Éomer was startled by the openness and willingness to leave.

Willan shrugged, grinning.

“Not yet,” Eadignes spoke up, but looked up smiling. “Maybe someday, but not yet.”

Gamling pulled her into a bear hug. “I am so happy for you.” He stroked a soft cheek with his thumb.

Eadignes cupped his in her hand. “As I am for you. If your lady had not done what she had done, had she not been gracious and forgiving, I would still be down there, thinking I had no right to love anyone. She has become a dear friend, something I’ve never had.” She kissed him swiftly before moving on. 

In mid-spring, with new settlers, wagons loaded, and sleeping babes, both human and equine, tied to mothers, Gamling’s family and Riders began a slow journey to the Wold, to reclaim what had been stolen.

When they reached Woldenfeld after many days, Aefre slid from her horse, her mouth agape. What a man called ‘run-down’ and ‘in need of moderate repair,’ she in her woman’s heart called, destroyed, ransacked, in need of extensive repairs. Her grandmother told her when she was younger, men saw dirt on an agricultural level, while women saw it at the minute level. She burst into tears, seeing for herself what had been done to her home. She was aware somewhere that her husband took her in his strong embrace and held her close, letting her cry.

“It’s alright, Aefre. We can fix this.”

“Not today, we can’t!” she retorted. “We can’t fix this today!”

“No. Not today. But we will fix it.” He patted her reassuringly. “We will. We’ll make Lufian proud.”

*** 

_Three summers later_

_***_

_***Dammit! I’m hard and I’m horny.***_

Gamling, Marshal of the Wold, Lord over Woldenfield – when his wife let him be Lord over Woldenfield – and Commander of one of the largest garrison’s in Rohan, had been in the saddle much too long.

_***Howmuchfurther? I’mnotgonnawaitnope! Just going to bendheroverthe nearest whatever and just poundher_***_

“Sir?” Gamling’s nefarious thoughts were interrupted by a newly deepening voice. Haleth had finally seen battle by going along with the rest of the garrison to Gondor to break in his new spurs against the Easterlings who continued to plague Gondor’s borders. He spent his first night back in Rohan, breaking in other things at the Blue Whale. As was his wont, Gamling had quietly picked the woman, young and plump, slipping extra coins in her blouse to ‘take extra care’ of the young Rider. From the grin that stayed on Haleth’s face for two days, obviously, she had done just that. “If we pick up the pace just a bit, we can be home by lunch.”

“In a hurry?”

Haleth wasn’t put off by the droll tone. “Just as much as you are.” Following the lead of the marshal, the éored put their heels to their horses’ flanks and picked up the pace. Close to noon, just over the plain from Woldenfeld, a single large, draft horse, Willan sitting proudly, Léoma, wild sun-kissed hair flying freely in the wind, and sitting in his lap, met the group. She scrambled down from the draft, and ran towards her father, arms out-stretched. “Da! Da!” 

Gamling stopped and scooted back, giving her room to climb Dréogan and settle in the saddle. She twisted and hugged him fiercely. “Missed you!” She leaned back and gave him an admonishing look that looked scarily enough like his mother. She shook his finger at him. “Don’t you be gone so long again!” 

“Yes, ma’am. I will inform the king that you will no longer allow me to ride with him.” Gamling nudged the stallion forward, pulling even with Willan. “Willan, how fare you?”

Willan grinned from ear to ear, crooking an arm out as if to cradle a babe. 

“So, Eadignes finally had that wee bundle you’ve been waiting on!” Willan grinned proudly. “What did you ha-”

“Tell him!” Léoma was bouncing up and down, causing Dréogan to look over his shoulder askance. “Tell him you had a big strappi…hrmmmph…” Gamling’s hand went over his daughter’s mouth.

“A girl?” Willan shook his head. “A boy then! Congratulations!! Riders of the Riddermark!” Gamling swung his war stallion around to face them. “Today, we rejoice! Willan has a fine son!” Cheers went up, congratulations. Everything was celebrated in the Riddermark, especially birth.

They rode on in silence for a few moments, before Léoma spoke up again. She nattered on and on about this mare giving birth, Eadignes’ baby coming late in the day, her cat having kittens in the barn, five of them. She wanted to bring them in to her room, but mama said no. Mama said no a lot, which was why Da was her favorite person. He rarely said no. She suddenly blurted, “Mama has been sick.”

“What?” 

“I said,” she spoke as if she were speaking to a small child, “Mama has been sick!”

“By sick, you mean not feeling well?” Gamling nudged his horse a bit faster. 

“Two days after you went to ride with Éomer,” when he was called to battle, they didn’t tell her he was called to war, they simply told her he was riding with Éomer, King. “Mama puked her guts in the hall. It was nasty.”

Gamling was now growing concerned. “But she is better now.”

“No.” Léoma was matter-of-fact and to the point. She was almost cheery. “She has been sick every single morning. She says, ‘Let’s get this over with so I can get on with my day!’ and then she sicks up. Cook is feeding her fruit and vegetables. I hate vegetables.” She did. The child developed a taste for roast beef and spicy mustard at an early age. “Mama said the funniest thing yesterday. She said her being sick was your fault and you were such a man. Da? What is such a man and why is mama being sick your fault?”

“Mama is sick because, I’m such a man, I suspect.” His mind was reeling, the headiness of it. 

_Finally…_

“Da…” she was smacking his thigh. “Make him go fast. Make Dray-gan go fast.”

Gamling rarely denied his daughter anything. She loved the wind in her face as much as he or her mother. He bent over, arm snaking around her, whispering in her ear to hold on to the saddle. He clicked his tongue, Dréogan’s ears perking at the readied signal. He dug in his heels and the stallion took off, leaving Willan and the éored in the dust, Leoma’s laughter lingering in the air. 

They roared into the yard, the bustling and busy-ness making Gamling feel at home. He dismounted, bringing Léoma with him, sending her to the kitchens for a treat and admonishing a passing girl, carrying buckets of water to ensure that he and his wife were not disturbed until the evening meal.

That meant keeping his daughter occupied. He took his stallion to the barn, newly raised earlier in the spring. The first thing they had done in the barn was celebrating Willan and Eadignes’s marriage. She had been so very pregnant and Willan had pleaded before she finally agreed. He curried the stallion, put him in his stall. He checked on Adenydd, noted she was filling out with her baby nicely. In the fall, there would be another addition to the stable. Her daughter, Smeartides was across the stallway, prancing about. She was proving difficult to break, throwing rider after rider and Gamling decided on his way back that a trip to the river to ride her in until she tired was in order. He shook his head and after throwing an apple to his stallion, he headed to the house.

His scowl deepened as he approached the entry.

He flung the doors open. “AEFRE!” His roar echoed loudly, causing all to turn. Léoma stood in the kitchen opening, sweetbread in her hand and her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. Before she could utter a sound, the cook brought her back in the kitchens, reminding her this was just a game her father and mother played.

Aefre come in from the dining room, polishing a piece of silver. She looked up to see Gamling standing in the hall, before moving towards her with great speed. She handed the cloth and fork to the girl next to her, lifted her skirts and began to run up the stairs. He beat her to the stairwell and lifted her up and over his shoulder. His hand smacked down possessively on her bum, before mounting the stairs. “You know where you’re supposed to be!” Aefre began to kick and squirm, names flowing from her mouth…

_***that I’m going to kiss and lick and suck***_

“Your arse is getting big!” He snickered at her gasp and he kicked their door open, back-heeling it shut behind them. Remembering the night Léoma walked in on them enjoying their marital bed, (and the hall enduring all sorts of embarrassing ‘do you sleep naked’ questions for some days) he quickly dropped the bar, ensuring their privacy. He set the still squealing woman gently to the floor.

“My butt is NOT getting wider, you oaf!”

His mouth found hers, his tongue searching, searing hot. Desperate hands found ties, yanking them loose, while he continued to explore her mouth, before blazing a trail to her ear.

_*Aefre hothothotwildthing beautiful Aefre*_

Her own hands were not idle, his riding leathers hitting the floor with a resounding thud. Her skirts, his trousers, were kicked off, kicked away, both of them toeing shoes, one of his woolens came off, the other one, only half way. Eventually, both made it to the bed, his mouth to her breast, immediately hearing her gasp, before remembering they were sore early on. Releasing it, he positioned himself, before plunging deeply into the hot, heated hallowed place and establishing an age-old rhythm. She met him, thrust for thrust, her knees about his waist, her hands encasing his head, as their tongues met and clashed again. 

At some point, he rolled, bringing her up with him, allowing her to ride, to establish her own rhythm. He waited for her to come to completion, spending herself first, before coaxing her to her knees and riding her, his hand caressing that plump cheek and smacking it more than once, watching it jiggle in voyeuristic satisfaction. He finished with a roar, before collapsing on her back. They both lay that way for sometime, before he rolled from her and the two scurried beneath the light quilt.

“Why do you let me do that to you?”

Aefre snuggled in under his arm, sated and content. Even in the summer, the bed was cold and lonely when he was on campaign and deep inside, she would endure most anything when he returned, simply to bask in the knowledge, he had returned home safe. “Because you like it and truth be told, I like it to!” 

For some moments, they enjoyed each other, touching, kissing. Eventually, his hand roamed downward to her stomach, feeling the hard bump that already resided there. “How far along are you?”

Aefre raised her head. “How did you know?”

Gamling looked at her as if she had suddenly turned dense. “Your arse is bigger!” He laughed heartily while she smacked him. “All right, all right! Léoma and Willan met us out past the fields and she said you had been sick every morning and you blamed me for your illness.” Again, he stroked the hardened bump. “You must have known before I left. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know, Gamling.” She burrowed into that welcome, warm, comforting, safe embrace. “Eadignes thinks I might be having twins.”

“Two?”

“Aye.” 

_*AlrightgomeIamthemantheman! Who’s the Rider, who IS the Rider…*_

“When?”

“Late winter or early spring.” 

He continued to caress her. “I am not leaving this time.”

Aefre nodded in agreement. “I want you to stay. I wanted you to stay the last time.”

They talked, softly for a while. Éomer’s wife was due with their first child before harvest and it was gently suggested that Aefre’s presence would be most welcome. Gamling and Éomer had the pleasure of catching Beornia wrapped in Cynn’s cloak before they left on campaign. They were a happy couple, with all of the fosterlings growing up and causing chaos. He promised Cynn the eldest boy of the children would be more than welcome at the garrison for Rider training. 

Aglaeca, as well as Bawdewyne earned their first Rider’s cloak. His brother’s would be rewarded by the next summer…

Life continued. And it was quiet in their rooms.

“Are you happy?”

Aefre’s eyes were heavy, not really wanting to sleep, as dinner would be ready soon and their hall would be filled with hungry riders and soldiers and their wives and girlfriends and children. Their child. It would be a noisy, rowdy evening, with much singing and children going to bed early to make way for celebrating a successful campaign and return. All of their Riders had returned, with nothing more than minor injuries. “Am I happy?” She leaned up on her elbow and looked her husband in the eye. “I am ecstatic and content and joyous.”

Gamling’s eyes narrowed in calculated merriment. “In that case, could you possible have a closer look at M’lord Happy?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Aefre’s laugh was so boisterous, it could be heard down the corridor, muffled only when she dived under the covers and made the Marshal sigh in contentment.

Life. Life was good in the Riddermark.

 

**Fini**

I Wear My Life  
Jo Dee Messina.

 

Rider of the Mark  
Begun 09/12/2004  
Finished 10/08/2011 


End file.
